


Desperately Seeking Sam

by morgana07



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Big Brother Dean, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, Mild Language, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-11 20:00:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 59,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgana07/pseuds/morgana07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam’s gone. Did he walk away? Dean believes so…until things begin adding up in a way that he doesn’t like & finally figures out the real reason his brother didn’t look for him. Follow Dean’s path as he learns some truths, faces some truths, deals with old & new enemies alike all as he fights to find Sam before it’s too late to save him from a fate worse than anything they’ve faced. *Angsty/furious/protective!Dean & Hurt/ really hurt/confused/drugged!Sam*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> A very special thanks goes to Wincesteriffic Kaz for the villain idea on this one & her gracious permission to run with it.  
> This one is a little more tricky with the warning. Most of it will fit in the T area with a only a chapter or so stretching it to push for the rarely used in my writing M rating.  
> So here’s my best way to do this: This story is rated M for portions with mildly suggestive themes of drugged non-con, some physical abuse & violence along with language.  
> Now not the whole story will contain these things, only perhaps bits in various chapters and as I always do I will add warnings per chapter as needed. See note below for more.
> 
> Alright, normally my warnings don’t get this large but then normally I don’t rate M but even though 90% of this could probably fly under the T rating I don’t feel comfortable using it since I know what may come in later chapters. If the plot changes then I may change the rating.  
> This story will be pushing a few boundaries, mainly my own so I hope my readers will give it a chance and go along as Dean goes along. I’ll try to keep the ‘suggestive’ stuff as merely suggestions when possible and I will warn per chapter as is needed. This is the first time I’ve gone this deep so it’s a new experience for all of us, lol.  
> Fans of Garth and Becky will be happy to know that they both will have cameos and considering I’m not a fan of Becky that should be saying a lot that she’s in here and not getting yelled at…too much.

** Present: Kermit Texas: **

White hot blinding rage and a strong urge to unleash all the emotions he’d been burying since returning from Purgatory as well as notions popping up in his head from Hell were all that Dean Winchester could feel right at that moment.

The knife clenched in his white knuckled fist was his old knife, the one he got from his Dad. The one that had been bloodied in fights with close to every supernatural thing he’d ever fought…and a couple that wasn’t.

Usually when he pulled this knife it was in self-defense or to kill a monster of some kind. There was only two other times that he could recall that he’d pulled this knife in anger, to use on a human and both of those times, like this one now, were because some stupid bastard thought they could lay a hand on his brother and not pay a price for that stupidity.

This night he’d pulled the knife again and it was pretty clear by the fury in his glittering green eyes that the asshole whose throat he had the blade pressed against may not be walking away with his heart or head attached if he didn’t answer the hunter’s questions.

“ _Where’s my damn brother_?”

The snarl and growl in Dean’s deeper than normal husky voice would have terrified any normal man and while the man he’d taken by surprise had faced his own fair share of dangerous men something in this young man’s tone and eyes warned him that the threat was very plain.

“I…I don’t…know,” he got out since even swallowing was a risk with the edge of a very sharp blade pressed into this throat. “Look, mister…I don’t know what this is…ah!”

Applying just slightly more pressure to the blade caused a thin line of blood to well to the surface; Dean’s hate was growing with every second he thought about Sam.

 Sam hurt, Sam missing, Sam…gone.

Though the hate for this man was only the tip of a much larger emotional iceberg since he also had hate for the bitch he was sure had his brother as well as plenty of hate and guilt aimed at himself for losing so many hours thinking that his brother had walked away from him again without a word and only a goddamn note.

Though it was actually the note itself, once he’d calmed down enough to read it for the fifteenth time that finally gave it away. That was when the true rage had begun to brew and had only increased since that night two days earlier.

Now though, his fury was burning hotter and this asshole was the closest thing to a target Dean had right then and his lies weren’t helping the situation.

“Listen…whatever this is…just back off the knife and…”

“Right. You’re ex-military and I was raised and trained by an ex-Marine so we both know why I’m not letting up on the blade, asshole,” Dean gritted, seeing the surprise in the other man’s eyes but also a slight bit of worry. “My name’s Dean Winchester, Richardson and by the way you just looked I can tell that name, or probably the last name, means something to you.

“Now, here’s how this plays. You tell me what I want to know in the next…ten seconds and I don’t cut your damn throat open,” there was no bluff in Dean’s voice or his eyes are he kept them locked on those of Don Richardson. “Your wife has my brother and I want to know what the hell game you two are playing and where Sam is now because after what I saw in your basement all the doubts I’ve had about that woman has just exploded into a fury that you do not want to see.”

Trying to still breathe without cutting himself, the former soldier was having a hard time following what was even happening.

Don had come back to the house in Kermit, Texas after spending another futile day out looking for his wife only to walk in to what he’d first thought was a very good thief until he soon found himself on the defensive and eventually pinned to the wall in the dining room by a clearly furious man with a very sharp knife and even sharper skills.

He’d been trying to figure out a way to disarm the stranger without getting killed when the name hit him like ice water in the face and something sick began to build in his gut. He knew the last name well enough even though he’d only heard it once or twice and suddenly realized he was staring into the eyes of the brother of the man his wife had spent the time he’d been believed dead living with.

“Wait…what?” hissing as the knife pressed a little harder, he shifted his one hand that had been gripping the wrist holding blade up toward the elbow to find a pressure point when he stopped as it slowly sunk in what had just been said. “Amelia has…Sam?” he stared into the hot green eyes that looked almost like they were sparking by this point. “What does that even mean?” he demanded hotly. “My wife went for a visit to her father and has been missing for a week and a half, mister. Maybe you got it the other way…shit!”

Fury that was clearly shown in Dean’s eyes shifted to his face when those same eyes slit, his mouth went hard and the vein in his forehead began to pound while he just pressed the blade even closer, choosing to ignore the lousy timing of his cellphone ringing.

“You do not want to even go there,” he gritted, leaning closer so he was directly in Don’s face. “You met my brother _once_ , I’ve known him for nearly thirty goddamn years. I know that boy better than he does himself and I knew, I just freakin’ knew there was something rotten about his time with your bitch of a wife but not even I would’ve dreamed it went this far down the rabbit hole, dude.”

Not one to be attacked, threatened or have his wife talked about, Don’s eyes were narrowing in anger. “Maybe you don’t know…him that well. He sure seemed to take advantage of my wife while I…”

The knife was jerked away only so Dean could slammed his fist into the man’s face, hand at his throat as he twisted to jerk him away from the way and down onto the table with the blade held in front of his face.

“You just trying to piss me off, or do you really want me to kill you?” Dean snarled, head pounding as his blood pressure soared but he had to push back the images that he’d seen both before and from the guys own basement. “You explain the S&M lair downstairs then we can talk but you don’t ever talk about my brother and you sure as hell don’t ever say _he_ took advantage of _her._ Not after this. What you are going to tell me is where they’re at.”

Keeping his eyes on the tip of the blade that was held with perfect poise right above his eye, Don suddenly forgot that to look up into Dean’s eyes. “What…what’re talking about? What…lair in the basement? What?”

Considering if this was another ploy to buy time, Dean’s gut instincts, the ones that he had to get to after pushing his stronger big brother ones down, said that maybe the guy wasn’t lying. Maybe he didn’t know which Dean found hard to buy considering he lived with the twisted bitch.

“Fine, you want to play games with me? You want to say you don’t know what’s in your own house? Fine, let’s go take a look and you can tell me what kind of sick games you and that sociopath get off on and what the hell she’s done to Sam!” Dean jerked the man off the table, twisting an arm behind his back while putting the knife away in order to jerk out his .45. “Try to screw with me and I’ll blow your damn head off.”

Not doubting the threat in those words, Don didn’t intend to fight the man. He intended to show him that there was nothing in the basement…not that he’d been down here much since his return.

Every time he’d gone to take something down or get something, Amelia had stopped him. The one time he had been down stairs he hadn’t noticed anything out of place since she’d told him that she kept some vet supplies in that little locked room toward the back.

“What…makes you think Mel has Sam?” he asked evenly, having to be impressed with Sam’s brother.

A soldier recognizes another and he can see the way Dean moves, the way he keeps himself far enough back that the weapon in his fist is a threat but Don couldn’t disarm him without being shot and the way those glittering green eyes keep on him while also not missing anything around him that this man had some training.

Of course he also noticed something else. Every time he mentioned Sam’s name the muscle in the older brother’s face ticked and he recognized buried rage as well as something else that he couldn’t pin down yet.

“Oh, common sense for one,” Dean shot back, the sneer obvious in his voice as he flipped the light on to the basement. “Your wife’s got some good sense in hiding her tracks or else I’d’ve already found ‘em and she thought of damn near everything to try to throw me off except for a couple little things but those aren’t any of your business until you give me what I want to know.”

Fighting not to snap that he couldn’t do that since he didn’t know what the guy wanted, Don turned as he stepped into the basement but quickly found the .45 aimed perfectly at his heart. “Mister, you’re making a mistake,” he warned seriously but frowned when that only got a smirk in return.

“No. You make the mistake of covering for the bitch you married,” Dean jerked his head toward the little room off to one side that had always been locked. “If I don’t find my brother soon or if he’s hurt in _any_ way and I mean in the slightest way, I will make you wish that you’d stayed dead, asshole. Now explain that if I’m so wrong!”

Gritting his teeth, Don looked toward the room and with a blown out breath stepped into the room his wife kept some vet supplies only to feel his heart drop to the stone floor. “Oh my God,” he breathed, not even reacting to when a hand shoved him further into the room and he had to catch himself with his hands to keep his face from smashing into a wall but grimaced when his fingers touched cold metal that still felt sticky with something he was afraid to think of.

“Yeah, that’s…roughly what I thought too,” Dean spoke casually but there was still the slight shake in his deep voice that gave away how disturbed by this room he truly was. “Of course, that was after I called the bitch a few more creative names and vowed to rip her to pieces for what she did to my brother down here.”

All of Don’s arguments were slowly falling away and certainly none could come off his tongue as he turned slowly to take in the full aspect of the room, something he could only guess Dean had already done since it was plain that Sam’s brother knew exactly what was in his wife’s ‘private’ room and it sure as hell wasn’t what Don had allowed himself to think.

It was a small room at maybe ten feet by ten feet without a window and only lit by a few lights scattered in the room, not that he figured one would need light since his time in the military had given him an all too vivid imagination of what the sturdy metal chains hooked into the wall, floor and ceiling could be used for.

The table and rolling cart with various tools, toys, or tiny little devices turned his stomach but he still fought for logic. Don tried to find some reason this would be down here…for why his wife would have this locked away.

“She’s…a vet,” he whispered, shifting a look over at Dean to see the smirk slowly turn to incredulous anger as he still tried to deny what could only plainly be a sick perverted sex/torture room. “She might’ve used this for…um house calls or…”

Shaking his head as if he’d heard wrong, Dean stared before his still brewing temper spiked. “House calls?” he repeated, glaring as he stepped into the room to go to the side corner which was oddly bare to feel along the wall before feeling the catch he’d found earlier. “Really? Then you better ask yourself what kind of house calls she was doing that needed a bed with attached chains,” he snapped, letting the bed fall out of the space in the wall with a bang.

“Let me try to give this to you in a way you can get, asshole,” still seeing his brother every time Sam would try to explain his actions the year Dean was in Purgatory, to how he’d act at times since leaving Texas for good and kicking himself for not seeing the signs before, Dean didn’t even want to be in this room considering the other things he’d learned but hadn’t shared with the man yet.

“You’re so-called perfect, naïve, innocent, trusting, grieving ‘wife’ is a sociopathic bitch with tastes that run way past the usual crap, dude,” he refused to look at the bed or the blood stains on the mattress as he stepped right up into Don’s face again, letting the barrel of the .45 tap his chest with every point.

“She’s drugged my brother, probably from the first goddamn day she met him, kept him drugged until he was a docile little boy who’d jump at her every word but wouldn’t remember the really bad stuff because that wouldn’t work in her plan,” Dean didn’t have proof of that yet but he’d gotten enough so far to be able to guess at some of Sam’s life here in Texas and why he’d just dropped out of sight.

Reaching into his pocket for photos he’d found on the cart, Dean shoved a few in the man’s face before fisting the others. “I wasn’t sure it had started this far back until I found these but I know she drugged him this time because I found some kind of powder and the damn needle that she either didn’t know she missed in clean up or just figured I wouldn’t see. Now, tell me I’m wrong and I’ll show you how fast I’m done screwing with you.”

Swallowing the sour taste that was building in his mouth, Don took the photos and made himself look and wanted to turn away but knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t keep looking the other way, especially not now.

The night he first met Sam Winchester was in a bar shortly after Don’s return. The kid was tall and built and if his brother was any indication knew how to take care of himself but even as he talked with Sam about Amelia he’d gotten that feeling like deep inside Sam was lost kid, a kid who trusted too easily and who could be hurt too easily.

The story he’d gotten was that Sam had hit a stray dog, a dog that still resided upstairs but hadn’t made a move against the intruder in the house, and he’d taken him to the animal clinic where Amelia worked.

The more he thought, the more he looked around him at this room, down at the photos in his hands that very vividly showed Sam Winchester in this room, chained either in those chains on the wall and floor or chained to the bed.

Even without the other photos that Sam’s brother had kept, Don knew he didn’t need them. He knew the pattern and had viciously prayed in his time away that he wouldn’t ever see it again.

Sam had probably been drugged lightly at the clinic to make him more ‘suggestible’ to get back to here since as far as Don could tell Amelia had already had this place so why she’d be at a motel was a mystery, though he had a hunch he knew.

Once she had the kid doused and chained, it would just follow a pattern of drugs, mental conditioning that the drugs would help strengthen until the abuse turned physical in little ways before the sex games would start. By the end of a week, two max, if she’d kept at him the boy wouldn’t have known what was going on. Only that Amelia was the only thing that mattered and he would have willingly walked away from anything or anyone just to make her happy.

The last picture was of Sam naked and chained to the wall with huge eyes that seemed to be pleading with someone out of lens view, clearly the dose of whatever drug was in fashion hadn’t taken effect yet and he’d known something was wrong.

Clenching his fist to crumple the photos, Don found he had a hard time moving his head to look Dean in the face.  He was surprised Sam’s brother hadn’t just shot him in he thought he’d known this was happening and that was the sickeningly amusing part of this whole mess.

Don knew that he should’ve seen the signs right from the start. He should’ve seen them and either made sure it wouldn’t happen or he should’ve warned Sam to watch his back but he’d had hopes. He’d believed her when she begged him to believe that it had changed…that she had changed and now another innocent was in danger.

Though a piece of Don feared that while Dean suspected the trouble his brother was in he really didn’t have a clue as to just how much trouble Sam was in and would be in if he didn’t find him soon.

“Damn it, Amelia. You swore to me this wouldn’t happen again,” he gritted, needing out of this damn room of horrors and pushed past Dean to go back upstairs; knowing the other man would follow and wasn’t disappointed to feel the strong grip on his shoulder. “Please, I know this…I didn’t know she was doing this again or…”

“Again?” Dean had been watching the ex-soldier as he took in the chains, the bed, the tools and sex toys and figured out quickly that he hadn’t been expecting to see this but it also didn’t take long to realize that while the room and stuff in it was a shock the very fact that his wife would have them didn’t seem as big a one.

Then what he was saying clicked and Dean’s anxiety went up another notch. “What the hell do you mean… _again_?” he demanded, hearing his phone start up again and swearing he’d kill the moron on the other end. “Sam…Sammy’s not the first she’s done this to?”

“… …No,” was the eventual reply, looking toward the mantle at a photo of long ago, Don twisted his wedding ring around his finger and suddenly found it very heavy; almost as heavy as his heart now seemed. “Amelia is…a complicated person to understand. She…”

“I don’t think sex fiends with a passion for drugs and chains too complicated,” Dean snorted, feeling his fist clench along with the knot in his stomach since he knew only too well that his brother had been out of this place, away from the woman and he’d sent him back however unknowingly to become a target. “I want you tell me everything that’s going to help me find my brother, including where she might have run to with him and I like what you say I may not kill you for not bothering to warn Sam about any…kinks this chick might’ve had.”

Wanting to say it was much deeper than kinks, Don opened his mouth just as the other man’s phone began ringing again and he frowned. “What if that’s…Sam?” he asked, seeing that flicker near Dean’s eye as the .45 leveled again.

“Don’t say his name,” Dean growled, snapping a harsh. “Don’t you even move,” as he jerked his cell phone out of his denim jacket without bothering to look at the ID since Sam’s cellphone had been left behind, another tell that something was wrong. “I’m in the process of threatening someone, so unless this is vital to what I told you to do then I will kill you slowly when I get to you, Garth.”

“Dean, you’ve got problems!” Garth, a skinny hunter who had helped the Winchesters out before, yelled into the phone as if not hearing the threat in the elder Winchester’s voice or not caring for once.

On his first case with Dean, Garth had seen the rage Dean could exude and also the lengths he’d go to in order to shield and protect his little brother.

Since then he’d seen other exchanges between the brothers but he never doubted Dean’s inner feelings and knew when the hunter had called him about Sam disappearing and what looked to be happening that someone would be dying. Now he was certain of that.

“Yeah, I know I do. He’s 6’4”, over two hundred pounds, an annoying pain in my ass most of the damn time and I haven’t a freaking clue to where he’s at! That’s my problem, Garth!” Dean moved the .45 as his eyes sharpened in warning as Don went to move slightly but only pulled out a chair as if to sit. “Now, what have you done to help me fix it?”

Looking over his shoulder at the computer screen that his once enemy, now part-time ally and, unbeknownst to Dean Winchester, Facebook and Twitter pal, Becky Rosen was trying to dig deeper into while not gagging, screaming or breaking her computer, Garth shook his head as if the hunter could see him. “No, I mean yes but no…damn it, Dean! It’s Sam!”

Wondering why the hell he’d gotten Garth involved, much less what the hell had possessed him to actually ask Becky for help on this, Dean felt like hanging up so he could beat the hell out of Don Richardson but struggled for control of his straining temper. “I know Sam’s in trouble, Garth. That’s why I got you and the obsessed Super Fan, though I may be downgrading her after this, to check online for any hits on Amelia or Sam’s credit cards or anything useful to aim me in the direction I need,” he reminded tightly. “Now did you find anything or not?”

“Sam’s online alright, Dean,” Garth chewed his lip while hearing another squeak out of Becky and quickly jerked the phone away so he could talk to her. “Focus past…that. Remember that’s…God, he’ll kill me, that’s your Sam she’s hurting so focus and get me an address, Becky!”

Jaw opening since Garth had pulled the phone away but hadn’t bothered to cover the mouthpiece so Dean had heard every word of that exchange and debated which of them he’d kill once he got his brother back. “No, he’s not her anything and oh hell yeah, I will kill you,” he snapped. “What’re you talking about? What’ve you found? She use one of his cards or…?”

“Dean…Becky’s search words lit up a live video and…oh, shit, man,” Garth knew there was no way to do this without getting a fist in the face sometime and so just rushed it out. “This Amelia…Becky found a whole website under some creepy nickname but you’ve showed me a picture so I know it’s her, I’ll send a link to your phone and…damn it…it’s Sam and…”

Don was watching Dean as he had the one sided conversation but the other person was talking so loudly that he could pick up bits and pieces and suddenly felt very cold. He could see some of the rage briefly going away on Dean’s face and concern replacing it…he just wished he knew a way to tell the other man that it would only get worse.

“Garth, two seconds to spill it or I’m having Kevin do something to your boat!” Dean’s heart was pounding faster and there was something in the other hunter’s voice, something that made it shake, that was telling him that whatever the two had found was not going to make him happy.

“It’s bad, Dean. Sam is…this is…it’s…beyond Becky bad. She’s bleeding him and…”

All the color went out of Dean’s face as it sank in what was being said, as he tried to image what was being said and a look over to Don’s grim face made him want to break as he realized he needed to find his little brother and soon.

“Sammy…”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has a little more suggestive violence. Nothing too graphic or bad yet.

**Chapter Two**

** 24-Hours Earlier, Whitefish, Montana: **

“Hey, I’m back and actually found some good stuff at the store for once…well, good for me. I still got you the same boring stuff,” Dean Winchester called as he tried to juggle an armful of grocery bags through the cabin’s door without dropping anything. “Hey! You wanna come give me a hand with this crap?”

Frowning a little when he didn’t get a reply, the hunter blew out a breath but figured his brother might be busy or completely involved with something on the computer, even though it wasn’t like Sam to totally ignore him… at least not so much these days.

Dean fully admitted to himself that he and Sam had been crossing the line past tense since he got out of Purgatory a couple months back. Hell, there’d been tension between them since Dean returned from Hell but the stress level these days was so thick at times that even Dean felt uneasy with it.

He knew a huge part of what was wrong now was a mixture of his own anxiety and issues over what he’d seen and done in Purgatory just to survive but there were also two other big issues that seemed to be tearing him and Sam further apart.

The first, as Dean silently accepted, was also his fault. He hadn’t told Sam about Benny, the vampire he’d met in Purgatory and who he’d brought out with him in return for Benny’s help down there. He hadn’t told Sam about Benny, about him being a vampire because he hadn’t wanted to tell his brother anything about the year he’d spent trapped in Hell’s waiting room.

Of course in Dean’s mind he also hadn’t told his younger brother about his friendship with something that normally would’ve been a target to them because he was still more than a little pissed off that Sam had spent the time he was missing living ‘normal’ with a girl and a dog in some town in Texas.

Even though they’d each promised the other no more stunts to save each other, it was an unspoken rule that they’d ignore that rule and at least look for the missing one. At least try to make an effort to find him and Dean had survived his time in Purgatory thinking that his little brother was up top looking for him because he knew he’d still kept looking into getting Sam out of the Cage while trying to live with Lisa.

Getting back, finally able to contact he harder to find than usual brother only to learn that Sam had pretty much dropped out of hunting, stopped looking after their would-be Prophet, stopped doing what they’d grown up doing and had not even tried to find out if Dean was alive or dead so he could go live with a chick and dog had more than pissed the elder brother off.

As Dean grabbed another handful of bags with a curse under his breath, he gave a kick at an absent stone as he allowed himself to think about it.

Yeah, it had pissed him off that Sam hadn’t even bothered to look for him the entire year he’d been gone after they got rid of Dick Roman but more than that, and more than Dean would ever willingly admit, it had hurt him and when he gets hurt he hurts back in the only was possible.

Growing up with Sam, Dean knew all the ways to hurt his brother but he suspected that he’d crossed the line a couple of times, especially when he’d been mindjacked by that damn cursed coin.

Despite all the fighting about Benny and about Sam’s time with Amelia, Dean’s teeth clenched at the name more than he did when saying or thinking about Ruby, he’d known the moment he tossed it in Sam’s face that Benny was a better brother than Sam had been that he’d crossed one of those barriers that he’d always sworn never to cross.

Sam had gotten good at hiding his emotions over the years since once upon a time, before Dean’s deal had come due and he went to Hell for four months or forty years depending on whose calendar you used, his baby brother had been pure walking and talking emotion.

That had changed these past few years and even though a lot of those emotions had come back once Sam’s soul had been restored, he’d learned to shield most of them from Dean. However, he’d seen the look of shocked hurt reflected in Sam’s hazel eyes when he’d said that and Dean wished he could take that jab back if nothing else.

In the last month he and Sam had been trying to get back on the same page by at least being able to work together without fighting all the time. Of course, that little mess with Martin hadn’t helped them.

Dumping the bags on the table, Dean shot a look around the old cabin that had once belonged to a fellow hunter and one they’d been using since the damn Leviathans had burned Bobby’s house and couldn’t help but feel an odd chill go through him but shrugged it off as just being tired.

He still meant to go find out who in their right mind had let Martin out of the nuthouse because there was no way in Hell that guy had been ready to face the real world again, much less a real world with real monsters in it.

Accepting that Sam had asked Martin to keep an eye on Benny had been one issue but when it became clear that no matter what Dean said to prove the vampires innocence that Martin had convinced Sam Benny was the vampire doing the killings Dean knew he needed to get his brother out of harm’s way.

Sure, it had pissed Sam off when he figured out that the text message from ‘Amelia’ hadn’t really been from her and Dean knew the risk he’d taken by sending his brother back to Texas but it had seemed the best way to ensure that Sam and Benny didn’t come to blows or worse because regardless of problems or fights Sammy was his little brother and he’d kill anything or anyone to protect him…even the vampire he owed his life to.

Of course, Dean hadn’t been expecting Sam to be so mad that he’d stay in Texas or that he’d go back to the woman whose husband had been found alive and there was that nagging doubt in his gut again that happened whenever Dean let himself think about Sam just walking away to live with a woman he barely knew and forgot their number one promise to each other.

It wasn’t Sam walking away from the hunting that bothered Dean too much since he’d known for years, since Sam had been a teenager that this wasn’t the life his brother really wanted.

Sam had wanted to be normal. He’d always wanted to feel like any normal kid and for four years in Stanford he’d found that but he’d come with Dean for a weekend and his life had been spiraling ever since but no matter the stress, the problems, the fights or what else had come between them they’d been brothers and Dean had never once thought that his brother, the little brother that had went down the dark path after Dean went to Hell saving his life, would ever walk away without even looking for him.

After saving Kevin from Crowley, Dean had thought his brother would go back to the woman…to what he’d thought of was normal but Sam had stayed. Sam had stayed and Dean had said a final goodbye to Benny, who had seemed to know that it was coming.

Dean suspected Benny knew that it would only be a matter of time before Sam came after him because his little brother had a mad on for the vampire unlike any other thing that Dean had ever seen and Benny also would know that if he made a move on Sam that their friendship would be over.

Beginning to put things away, Dean sighed when Sam still hadn’t made an appearance and vowed to make his brother pay the next time they were in the car because shopping was one chore but actually figuring out where all this crap went was next to torture for him.

Worried that Sam had another bad spell, Dean hurried to put the stuff away so he could find his brother while those thoughts came back and reminded him that he’d been meaning to ask Sam if he’d been sick while in Texas because the sudden shakes, the way he’d zone out, the nightmares Sam wouldn’t talk about, the headaches and a few other things just weren’t making sense to Dean.

Of course, all the noise he was making and Sam still hadn’t at least come out to bitch about the distraction also wasn’t making much sense to him so after tossing a loaf of bread onto the counter, Dean tossed his jacket on the couch and headed for the bedroom. “Sammy? All the work’s done so you can come out now,” he gave the door a swift knock before counting to five and frowning.

Normally it only took a three-count to get have the door opening or Sam’s voice giving some reply but this time there was nothing but silence was all he got.

Dean started to turn but something in his gut changed his mind as he pushed open the door and felt that same cold rush through him but this time it was mixed with a sick feeling when he noticed the note on the bed as well as seeing that some of Sam’s stuff seemed to be missing.

“What the hell?” he demanded on the silent room, scowling as he shoved some stuff that he knew was in Sam’s duffel but seemed to have been dumped out on the bed out of the way so he could sit down to view the note when all of the recent troubles, the pain, the fights, the bitterness seemed to return in spades as he read the first sentence. “ _Sonuvabitch_.”

“‘ _Dean. I understand that you’re going to be angry but I’ve left. I’ve decided that this life isn’t for me and I’m going away. I shouldn’t have come back. I had a life that I loved with a woman I loved more than anyone else I’ve ever known and while I understand that this may be hard for you to grasp, I’m no longer going to do what you tell me to. I’m my own man and it’s time for you to stand on your own._ ’”

“Really? Oh, I’ll stand on my own alright, kiddo. Right after I knock you on your ass,” Dean gritted, not seeming aware of the wetness on his face right then as he continued to read the well written letter from Sam.

“‘ _I know I said I’d stay but after thinking about it I’ve decided it was time for me to find my own life. I know we’re brothers but you’re not my father and it’s time I found a life of my own. Please don’t look for me or try to find me as I don’t want to see you again. I’m done. We’re done. Goodbye. Sam._ ’”

The note crumpled up as Dean’s hand curled into a fist but it was the ball of emotions that had fisted in his gut that Dean couldn’t ignore.

Swallowing thickly, he read over the letter again before crumpling it again while seething. He believed that Sam had wanted to do this when he came back, when he hadn’t taken Dean up on the offer to go back to normal.

He’d actually allowed himself to think there was a chance for them to start to finally heal from all the crap they’d been going through since their Dad had died.

A look told Dean that some of Sam’s clothes were gone, a few T-shirts and a pair of new jeans but all the rest had been left but seemed…out of place, though right then Dean’s anger and hurt were too huge to notice.

“Goddammit!” he slammed the door, hearing something jar on the wall but ignored it. This betrayal and loss hurt nearly as bad as learning that Sam hadn’t given a care enough to look for him or to at least see if he was dead or trapped.

Grabbing the full six pack of beer he’d just bought, Dean slumped on the couch to pop the first top while stewing and debating if he wanted to go track his damn brother down long enough to kill him or give the brat what he seemed to be demanding: never to see his brother again.

“Find a life of his own? I’m not his father? What the hell did he have in Stanford and who in the hell does he think raised him while Dad was hunting?” the ringing bitter words in that letter still stuck in Dean’s throat as he replayed them over and over, refusing the empty hurt that wanted to come as partly his own damn fault.

Sam had been hurt by all the jabs at him that Dean had been making, about all the times he’d failed Dean, or betrayed him or just hadn’t been there and something had happened while Dean was at the store to finally make Sam decide to walk away.

It wasn’t just the surprise of this or at how short the letter had been but Dean just couldn’t figure out what had made his brother take off like this. He’d seemed fine a few hours earlier when he was bitching at Dean using his laptop again since he was tired of opening it to find porn.

Yes, it was clear they had a ways to go before finding peace again or of getting over the bitterness but Sam had seemed relieved to be back hunting with Dean and he seemed alright with his choice to leave… _her_ so this sudden departure was bothering Dean and not just because the goodbye letter had cut him a lot deeper than he thought possible.

In eight years they’d both said a lot of crap meant to hurt the other but usually it took someone else’s involvement, a drug, a demon, a siren or a goddamn bald Angel to get them to the point where things like this had been said and usually it was Dean doing the hurting.

Even while soulless his brother hadn’t come close to this level of hurt and back then Sam hadn’t been able to care if what he said hurt someone or not but this time, in short two paragraphs Sammy had done what no demon, angel or the like had before and cut Dean deep.

And like usual when Dean’s hurt his first basic response is to hurt back but without knowing where Sam went when he…left, he refused to say run this time, he didn’t know who to hurt when all he wanted to do was to at least talk to Sam.

Grabbing his phone, he quickly hit speed dial to see if Sam would answer. The three beers that he drank right on top of one another on an empty stomach was giving him a slight buzz but Dean frowned because he knew he wasn’t drunk enough to be hearing noises.

Sitting up on the sofa with his phone still held up to his ear, he kept hearing a familiar tone when it finally hit him that he was hearing Sam’s phone. “What the hell?” he muttered, pushing up to see Sam’s jacket still tossed on the back of the chair where he’d laid it the night before.

Grabbing the jacket to search through the pockets, Dean felt something icy crawl up his back when he pulled his geek tech loving brother’s new phone out and something suddenly didn’t feel right.

Sam might walk away without his clothes, or his jacket, or his laptop but Dean knew his brother would not walk away with his phone and the fact that he had was making something about this not add up right.

“What the hell, Sam?” he asked out loud, turning to toss Sam’s jacket on the coffee table only to whirl back around at the sound of crashing and saw that one end of the table had collapsed. “ _Sonuvabitch_! What? Who’d I piss off this week?” he knew the wood coffee table was probably old and worn out but his brother’s jacket didn’t weigh enough to have caused it to break.

Still fuming, the crumpled letter laying on the couch until Dean chose to burn it for just existing, he really didn’t want to pick the table up but he also didn’t feel like being haunted by two grumpy old hunters and that’s exactly what Rufus Turner and Bobby Singer would do to him.

“Why can’t I have a mopey little brother who just goes and sulks until we’re ready to beat the hell out of each other?” he grumbled, hating the thought that Sam felt like he did especially since he honestly didn’t think Sam would ever come right out and use the excuse that Dean wasn’t his father since as far as Sam was concerned their own Dad hadn’t raised him…his brother had.

If Dean was honest it had really been the ‘ _we’re done’_ part that had hurt him the most because even while fighting the most they had still been there for one another. Even after Dean had tossed the amulet and he still regretted that move, and had given up on them Sam hadn’t lost his belief in his big brother so the cold tone of the letter now was like a totally different side of his brother had come out and…

“God, that’s so not a good thought to have considering all the troubles he’s had in his head,” Dean knelt down to see what had broken on the table when his slightly fuzzed head suddenly began to clear as he noticed the legs on one end had snapped but a closer look showed that the jacket hadn’t broken it.

Laying on his side to get a better look at what was now causing him to frown more, Dean noticed that the table seemed to have been broken before and just propped back up on the legs. The sudden weight and movement of the jacket had made it fall again.

Sitting up, green eyes looked around the cabin again but this time with a hunter’s eye. Sam was gone but his phone, laptop and clothes were mainly still here. His jacket was here despite the chills he’d been having and that Sam had had it drilled into his head as a kid to always take his phone and jacket with him, even if he was being a spoiled brat about something.

Pushing the hurt and pain aside of a big brother aside so the trained hunter could take over, Dean went to push himself up when his fingers touched something gritty under the edge of the sofa and a look down soon had his already tense stomach flipping.

Dropping flat to his stomach to peer under the sofa, Dean growled and gave it a shove back to reveal a small scattering of white powder but it was the syringe that he also noticed that stopped him cold because there was no reason for one to be under the sofa.

They didn’t use needles unless it was called for because Sam hated the things and had since he’d been a toddler when a bad hospital experience had left his little brother with a life-long fear of them so Dean never used them and he knew Sam wouldn’t have had a reason to.

Narrowing his eyes at the offending object, he nearly jumped when his phone rang and he snatched it up with true hope it was either brother even though the ring tone was off. “Sammy?”

“Uh, no, it’s me…Garth,” came the voice from the other end as the skinny hunter checked in with the Winchesters but he didn’t have to have the senses of a Bobby Singer to know something was off with the oldest Winchester brother. “Something wrong with Sam?”

Pushing up from the floor to look for something to put both the powder and the needle in for testing, Dean rolled his eyes at the stupid question but held his tongue since the other man had no idea that his brother had seemingly take off.

“No…I guess not…I don’t know,” he replied darkly, going into the kitchen when his eyes zeroed in on the sink where two glasses sat and he knew the sink had been empty when he left earlier in the morning. “Got back, found a note from…Sam. Guess he’s tired of this, of me and he’d taken off. Doesn’t want me to find him but…he left his phone, his jacket, the laptop and…damn it, Garth…I thought we were getting back on track.”

Listening to the pain and honest confusion in his silent hero’s tone cause Garth to look to where his current houseguest and Prophet sat with a look of concern on his face. “Kevin talked to Sam this morning, Dean,” he began slowly, having only met Sam Winchester a couple times and the first hadn’t been under the best of circumstances. “He sounded fine and didn’t sound like he was getting ready to bolt. In fact, he said he was waiting for you to get your ass back so you guys could go check out a new lead on a hunt he’d found.”

“Come again?” Dean had picked up one of the glasses when a sniff didn’t reveal anything but found a greasy substance on the bottom which once again had his senses ticking. “If he had a lead, why would he write this crappy note and just take off?” he demanded, getting more confused, more angry and also more than a little concerned as he pushed his anger away because that was clouding things.

“How many pages did he write?” Garth asked, figuring if Sam had suddenly decided to leave his brother and hunting again it probably took him all day to write the letter.

Dean snorted while looking back at the letter. “Two paragraphs of crap, like I wasn’t his father, he could find his own life, that he didn’t want me or need me and that we were done…and are you choking?” he frowned as he pulled the phone away while looking at the door for signs of forced entry but seeing none. “Garth!”

“We’re talking about Sam, right? Sam Winchester? The kid I saw you nearly shotgun that obsessed fan over and the same one whose eyes I thought were going to come out of his head the other week when you were mouthing off to him?” Garth caught the way Kevin was shaking his head and agreed. “Dean, you sure Sam wrote that note?”

Since he wanted to believe that these weren’t his brothers feelings, Dean wished he could say no, he wasn’t but since Sam had been alone and there wasn’t any forced entry he was left with the task of facing the fact that he’d lost his brother for good this time.

“Sammy and I’ve been off since I got back. Hell, you saw how we were so…I guess the kid just decided to bail when I was gone,” that also hurt Dean since Sam couldn’t have waited until he was there to shoot him in the heart with those words. “Guess it just took eight years of this crap to finally let him tell me how he really feels. I mean, he didn’t look for me and had a decent life in Texas so…again with the choking, Garth?”

“Uhhh, what d’ya mean he didn’t look for you?” Garth blinked, waving Kevin away as he began to pace and put things together.

Neither Winchester was huge on sharing things, be it emotion, hugs, or details so it had taken Garth a lot of pressing, a lot of hard work and finally a lot of bugging Kevin until he’d gotten a clearer picture on things.

“Yep, Sam’s own words…he hit a dog, met a girl and that was it,” Dean didn’t bother to hide the bitterness in his voice since it still bugged him, though not as much as this did. “I mean, I know he was alone and probably confused but we’d always promised to look for each other if…something happened again but he just ran.”

“Dean…I don’t know why he stayed in Texas after hitting that dog but he spent the first month after you went ‘poof’ trying to find you,” Garth knew that because Sam had been driving him nuts about ideas of where his brother might be and how to get him back.

“I know he was running himself ragged trying to find any lead on you until I was worried he was cracking. He left me one night half asleep cause he couldn’t sleep without screaming for you and said there was some kind of Shaman in Texas who might have a clue. That was the last time I saw or heard from him until I met up with you guys,” he suddenly felt like kicking himself for not trying to find the younger Winchester.

That admission made a little of the hurt go away but it still left Dean with too many questions and no enough answers as he began to pace, ending up back in the bedroom to finally pay attention and caught some little things that no one else would have.

Sam was the more organized of the two of them. Hell, Dean had given his brother grief for taking so long in folding everything just right and his need to keep things in place that the mess that was dumped from his duffel should’ve been the first warning bell.

In all of the years they’d been hunting together or before that as kids traveling with their Dad, Sam had never just dumped his duffel out like it had been now.

Skimming a hand over the contents on the bed, he noticed nothing seemed to be missing except for the extra credit cards Sam kept stored in there for emergencies, when his fingers brushed over the black rubber band bracelet.

They’d both each had one because Dean had given Sam one to keep his annoying little brother from tugging on his.

Sam had stopped wearing his until just recently when Dean had given it back since he’d found it in his pocket after digging himself out of his own grave.

The bands had been a symbol of the bond they had as brothers and while Dean knew he couldn’t replace the amulet in Sam’s mind since he’d tossed it away in a fit of pain and betrayal during the time when both Heaven and Hell wanted them broke apart.

Dean had given this one back to Sam and had begun to wear his own again shortly after getting his little brother out of that mental hospital last year and as far as he could tell Sam had still been wearing it…until now.

Tuning the complaining Garth was doing out, he continued to absently sift through the contents of Sam’s duffel and swallowed as another burst of pain hit him as he picked up a torn card that he vividly recalled giving to Sam on his graduation from High School.

His pain in the ass little brother tended to be a pack rat and had kept the card but it hurt now to see that he’d…or someone else had torn it in two as if tearing them apart.

Laying it aside for taping later, he was about to pick up a tossed shirt when it unfolded and Dean slowly had to sit back down. “Garth…Sammy didn’t get into a fight with a wolf or anything while I was gone, did he?”

“Huh?” wondering how Dean had gotten onto that since he’d spent the last ten minutes giving him a detailed rundown of Sam’s first month solo. “No. As far as I know the worst thing Sam might’ve fought was the spirit of a witch he raised to get information and…stop snarling, Dean.”

Dean wasn’t snarling but he was sputtering since his brother knew better than to screw with spirits and especially that of a witch since those things did not like Winchesters very much but then his attention was back on the T-shirt with shreds in it that suddenly hit home and he closed his eyes. “Damn it, Sammy.”

It had been five years since the night he was torn to shreds by that hellhound in front of his little brother and Dean had just assumed either Sam or Bobby had tossed the shirt since he’d clawed his way out with a clean shirt on and his brother’s bracelet in the pocket of the over shirt.

It had never once occurred to him since he’d never gone through Sam’s duffel after he lost his brother to Lucifer’s Cage that Sam had kept the damn shirt he’d died in or… “What’s…oh,” completely forgetting the phone and Garth for a moment, Dean’s attention locked on the tiny gold amulet that had been wrapped in a small bit of cloth and for a moment the anger subsided.

Sam tended to be a packrat as Dean knew but he couldn’t bring himself to believe that if his brother thought or believed the things he’d written in that so-called note that he still would have these things.

Sharp memories of the night before they met Lucifer in Detroit came back to Dean and he’d noticed that Sam had clung to something the last night at Bobby’s.

Dean had tossed the amulet when he’d lost faith in them but Sam had picked it up and had held onto it. Even with all that had happened recently, his little brother had kept these things well hidden in his duffel.

“What the hell, kid?” he whispered, not getting this at all. “You pretty much said you hate my guts and don’t want anything to do with me but you’re still holding onto this. Why? Garth, what the hell did you just call me?” the shouting on the phone finally got his attention and vowed to hurt the skinny looking hunter.

“I said, did you catch the video to see what Sam was doing today, dumbass?” Garth very rarely lost his temper enough to cuss and especially would not cuss at a Winchester but he hadn’t seemed to be getting through to Dean so far.

Scowling, Dean looked around the cabin that barely had cable TV. “What video? Garth, have you ever seen this cabin? It’s like living before…well anything was invented practically.”

“Dean, I might not be Bobby and I might not be what most people expect but I did meet Rufus Turner once and that was enough to tell me that old guy was more paranoid than you and he rigged that cabin with cameras,” Garth chewed his lip a little. “Sam knew they were there so…check his laptop. There might be an app to view them or something.”

Hating his brother’s laptop since it usually only got him in trouble, Dean went to find it and after a brief search located on a side table which is someplace his brother never would have set it. “I hate this thing,” he grumbled to Garth then slit his eyes at a comment from Kevin. “What the hell does he even know about porn?” he shot back, seeing the computer was still on.

Dean’s nerves were getting tighter since he knew his brother wouldn’t have left his laptop on if he’d gone for good. Checking to see what Sam might have been doing before whatever happened had, he caught several sites on cases but then noticed an app listing that he hadn’t seen before. “Hey, what this little app with a camera and a gun?”

“That’s the security feed,” Garth had smirked when Sam told him the little icon he’d listed it under. “Click it and go back to whatever time after you left today and see if you can see what Sam was doing or…Dean? Dean, hey, what…damn,” he closed his phone since he’d been hung up on while hoping whatever Dean found wasn’t too bad.

Deciding he had enough distractions, Dean disconnected from Garth while he tried to figure out the video feed and quickly realized by the multiple windows that this whole cabin was rigged and he growled, swearing to kill Sam for not telling him about this.

Finding the right timestamp, Dean grabbed another beer as he began to watch Sam prowl the cabin after he’d left for the store.

Sam had been more restless in the last week and even Dean had the odd feeling like someone was watching them but hadn’t pinned it down to what and had finally just shrugged it away to his usual paranoia since getting back from Purgatory.

That morning in fact Sam had down everything but come right out and asked Dean not to leave but he’d finally settled down with a mutter about not being gone all day.

Dean sped the feed forward to see his brother work on the computer before beginning to pace again and he knew Sam only paced like that when on edge. Seeing it come on the two hour mark that he’d been gone, since it had taken Dean longer than he thought it would, he heard the knock on the door which made him sit up since no one should come knocking on their door.

As another knock was heard, he saw Sam come from the hall and head for the door and he heard his name out of his brother’s lips, suddenly knowing why there wasn’t a forced entry and felt sick.

Sam had thought he’d come back and needed help. Sam had opened the door without looking or checking like they almost always did because whatever had made Sam nervous had also made him forget the most important things both Dean and their Dad had taught him: never open the door without checking and always have a gun in hand.

“Sammy, don’t open…shit,” he cursed when the door opened and he got a look at who was on the other side. “ _Shit_!”

Seeing the smiling face of Amelia Richardson suddenly made Dean’s radar go off but it was the short look of surprise, confusion, and fear that flashed over Sam’s face that really had it singing as he sat up to view the screen better.

The sound wasn’t good and he could only make out a few words as he watched Sam pause then slowly step back but Dean couldn’t be sure if his brother had stepped back to let the woman in or to avoid the hand she’d lifted to touch his chest.

Unaware of the growl that had formed when the woman finally did touch Sam, Dean could feel the hairs on the back of his neck slowly lift as he watched Sam try to avoid the casual touches while there was no mistaking the look on his face as he looked between Amelia and the door as if hoping to see Dean walk through it and Dean was kicking himself for being late or he would’ve been back by this time if the Impala hadn’t gotten a…

“Oh, she is so dead,” he whispered, fingers clenching as the sudden flat tire made more sense and felt his blood pressure spike then his attention went back to the video to see that the woman seemed to trying to convince Sam of something but his brother wasn’t buying it. “That’s my boy.”

Sam had been taught by the best on how to get out of a situation and since he was taller and outweighed the woman Dean really didn’t think she was a threat. That was when he was sickeningly reminded that it wasn’t just the supernatural things he needed to worry about shielding his brother from.

“‘ _No! Amelia, I told you if I didn’t come back to the room that night that I wasn’t coming back. Now you need to leave,_ ’” Sam’s voice was strained, shaky as he tried to steer the now crying woman toward the door. “‘ _We’re done. You have Don and I’m…happy. My brother and I are getting along or almost but I’m not walking out on him._

_“‘What we had was…Hell, I don’t even know what we had cause I…I can’t remember most of it except…I’m having flashes and I’m hoping I’m wrong but I need you to go and…Amelia? What’re you…damn!_ ’”

Dean had been frowning as he struggled to listen and he’d been too focused on that and the ugly little thoughts that were building when Sam’s more alarmed tone hit him and he blinked just in time to see Amelia turn from digging in her purse to blow a handful of white powder…alarm bells were singing…into Sam’s face with a sudden smile.

Eyes shooting to the white powder on the floor, Dean swore as he watched his little brother stumble back as whatever had been blown into his face blinded him but he wasn’t watching as Sam lost his balance and fell back into the coffee table, breaking two front legs. He was watching for what he was praying he didn’t see next.

Four years older, Dean knew he had a bit more experience in certain areas than Sam. He’d been conning and hustling pool in bars before he was really legally allowed so he knew what went on behind the scenes in some of them.

He’d also been on the receiving end of his fair share of mickeys and doused drinks, learning a few hard lessons to never leave his beer unattended or always have someone watching his back.

Ever since Becky had ruffied his brother last year he’d been reading up on the more advanced drugs people sometimes used in bars or the like and he’d been watching Sam’s reactions since getting back from Texas.

The signs had been there but Dean had been too preoccupied to see them and now as he watched Sam struggle to get back up, to move a sick feeling warned Dean what was happening even though he couldn’t believe it.

He watched Amelia kneel down beside Sam to stroke his hair, saw her dump more powder directly into his mouth as he tried to shake his head, to avoid her grasping fingers only to gag on the powder before slowly going still.

“No…God, please,” he whispered as if willing this not to happen as he watched and listened to everything Amelia, who the first time he’d seen her had given him some weird vibes, said and did to his suddenly helpless brother.

Fighting not to slam his fists either through the screen or the table, Dean felt his lips curl back as he realized whatever that damn powder was had pretty much paralyzed his brother but he could see Sam was still awake if not fully with it as Amelia slowly inserted a needle into his arm while going the extra mile to pour two drinks while stirring something into the one she forced Sam to drink then just sat on the sofa and watched her combined mickey take its maximum effect.

Sam’s eyes seemed huge from what little Dean could see from the limited view of the camera and it hit him that his brother was drugged. He was awake or at least partially awake but unable to move unless…

“That goddamn bitch,” he gritted, hissing at the screen as if that would have some effect while Amelia moved to open the door and Dean’s eyes nearly jumped as two men entered the cabin.

Dean recalled every single thing about the vet who saved the dog he’d hit. Sam had spoken of Amelia as a kind, emotionally battered young woman who had lost her husband and had just been searching for someone who could understand.

Sam had thought he’d found a kindred soul, someone who understood what it was like to lose someone they’d loved. Or at least that was his brother’s description. Now as Dean watched this ‘emotionally’ battered woman smile and laugh as she pulled his brother’s shirts off and reached for his belt he recognized her for what she was…a demented sociopath with serious issues.

Amelia’s use of the mixed drugs told Dean that this wasn’t the first time she’d slipped his little brother some kind of concoction to make him pliable and then he could hear her voice more…

“‘ _Shhh. Don’t fight it, Sam. You know you want to come with me. You know in your heart that this life with your brother isn’t what you really want. Didn’t I tell you back home when I first took you that I’d make you forget your precious brother? Didn’t I tell you not to fight me or the drugs while you were chained those first few weeks? You were made for me, my Sammy,_ ’” Amelia cooed while rubbing a hand down Sam’s bare chest and smiled into his glassy brown eyes as he still tried to get his mouth to move around the pleas that she’d heard him use before.

“‘ _No, once we’re gone, once we’re safe I’ll show you how much you love me and what you’re going to do for me because we’re going to have so much fun. Things that won’t come close to what we did in Kermit…or at least the things I let you remember. Now you’re going to write a little goodbye note to your big brother so he won’t come after you._

_“‘You’ll going to tell him how much you hate him, how this is your life and you don’t need him anymore and then you, me and our new friends are going to go home and you’ll be all mine, my big strong Sammy. You don’t like it when I call you that. Even with the drugs I see it in your eyes. You’re mine, Sam and you never should’ve tried to leave me. You came back and I knew it was meant to be us. Now it will be._ ’”

Dean’s stomach twisted as he heard Sam’s drugged moan but it was the big brother that still watched as his little brother’s fingers tried to claw at the empty air as she pressed herself down on him before letting the new men jerk Sam up and forced him to write that goddamn note.

Every time either Amelia or one of the men’s hands touched Sam, Dean saw red and was in the process of searing all their faces into his memory for later use that he caught what Amelia and her puppets hadn’t.

After Sam had haltingly written the note with exactly the wording Amelia whispered to him, and one of the men had come out of the bedroom with a few items of clothes and waving the credit cards with a filthy sneer that Sam was able to lift his head, and the strain was clear that he’d had to fight the drugs building in his system to

do even that as his glassy eyes, wide with shock, drugs and more clearly fear locked on to the camera that he knew was recording this attack.

Dean could feel his breath stop as he realized that during the drugging, the mild beating that Amelia let the men do when Sam still tried to fight as his jeans were stripped down to only leave him his boxers that his brother knew the camera was watching and that…he’d…hopefully, see this and know the truth.

“‘ _…Sorry…De,_ ’” it was mouthed and only barely before another needle jabbed into his neck and Sam’s eyes rolled back in his head.

Rage built as the needle rolled casually out of Amelia’s hand to fall to the floor while she ran a slow hand up Sam’s back to around his chest while she whispered something the camera didn’t catch before snapping an order and Sam was dragged out of camera view.

The rest of it, the attempt at clean up, the fixing of the coffee table, anything else went unheeded as Dean kept seeing the fear and loss in Sam’s eyes before he lost consciousness and knew.

Dean knew that Sam couldn’t fight, that he hadn’t written that note, the note that he was going to cram down someone’s throat the first chance, and he knew deep down in his gut, just by the way the woman talked, bragged and promised that this wasn’t the first time she’d done this to Sam.

He didn’t know what types of drugs had been used but he would soon. He didn’t know where the bitch had taken his brother but he’d also know that soon as well. He didn’t know who else was in on this stunt but he had a good hunch on where to find that out but compared to all that he didn’t know Dean did know one thing…

Dean was positive that he was getting his brother back from that sick bitch and if he was hurt more than what he’d seen down now then their Father’s rule against killing humans was going out the window because he was also very much aware that his brother hadn’t stopped looking for him because he wanted to.

The buried fears, the nightmares, the lapses of memory all screamed drugs. Sam had been nailed probably the moment she first laid eyes on him and his only escape had come with Dean’s return.

Sam had left or escaped when Dean had called him because there wasn’t anything stronger than the bond they had as brothers. He’d been free but Dean’s attempt to keep Sam safe from Benny had unknowingly sent his brother back to the bitch and he’d never forgive himself for that.

Rewinding the feed to see Sam’s eyes locked on the camera and his use of Dean’s nickname, the very shortened form of his name that Sam had used as a toddler just learning to shout for his big brother had broken his heart because he suspected that in his own heart Sam didn’t know if he’d see this or not or if he’d believe the note.

The note that had come very close to convincing Dean that he’d lost his brother for good. The lying piece of paper that his brother had strained against fighting since Dean knew every move his brother made and had recognized the way the muscles in Sam’s arm seemed to be fighting the urge to listen to the whispered orders.

“It’s okay, Sammy,” he whispered to the eerily silent cabin as he struggled to control his ragged breathing while slamming the lid on the laptop and making a decision that under any other time he’d be splashing himself with holy water. “I’m coming, baby brother. Heaven and Hell, Leviathans, demons and whatever else thought they could screw with us and we showed them differently. Now I’ll show this bitch that she never should’ve tried to screw with you.”

As rage, guilt and hate all began simmering, Dean shoved the laptop into his own duffel while he quickly tossed Sam’s stuff back in his then put what he thought he’d need in the Impala before grabbing his phone. “Garth, lock Kevin up and get your ass to Kansas. You’re about to get reacquainted with your soul mate,” he growled, cutting the hunter’s groan off. “This bitch nailed Sam where he should’ve been safe. I want her found and we’re going to drop in on my less than favorite groupie to do that.”

Shutting the phone down before Garth could ask more questions that would bring back the full memory of seeing what Sam had endured in over an hour and a half of torment, Dean knew he needed to find them before this got worse and to do that, to be able to help Sam when he did find him he needed to know what she’d given him.

Not feeling like dealing with Feds in his current black mood, Dean made another drastic choice as he hit another number he’d kept on speed dial. “Hey, Sheriff…it’s Dean Winchester. I…no, Sammy needs help.”

 

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still here? I do promise Sam will have a chance to be a bigger part in this as it goes along.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit more severe language toward the end as well as a more descriptive scene toward the end that while still isn’t too bad it is dark and shows some video of drugged non-con. Just be aware of that.

** Chapter Three **

****

** Lawrence, Kansas…Hours later: **

Reading through the story on the screen of her laptop, Becky Rosen twirled a strand of hair around her finger while allowing her mind to wonder just a little too much so that the sudden pounding on her apartment door had her jumping with a little squeak.

A glance at the computer clock had her blinking. “Forty-five minutes for Chinese?” she’d never understand take-out delivery as she grabbed her wallet to head for the door.

Moving to Lawrence had certainly seemed like a good idea to the often easily one tracked minded girl. It had been the birth place of her one true love and object of her still very vivid fascination, Sam Winchester.

Becky admitted that her last encounter with the Winchesters hadn’t been her best and she hadn’t actually meant to hurt Sam by drugging him to get him to marry her or tying him to her bed at her family’s cabin. She hadn’t… but she’d gotten a bit too carried away with the possibility of having what she’d first dreamed of since learning that her fictional crush was real.

She’d moved to Lawrence as if that would bring her closer to Sam and hadn’t given up writing her fan fiction of the brothers, though she did change her username in case Sam’s over protective and very scary older brother got to looking too closely at the sites again.

Of course by moving to Lawrence she accepted the risk of running into other people who knew the Winchesters and her knuckles still smarted from that wooden spoon Missouri Mosley had smacked her with upon dropping in for a surprise visit.

The pounding on her door reminded her of the delivery guy with dinner but as Becky opened the door with a bright smile, she let out a much larger squeak of shock while dropping her wallet and staring with wide shocked eyes. “…Dean!”

“Find him!” Dean Winchester hated this idea because up until a few hours earlier he hated this girl more than he had anyone except Gordon Walker and while he still held the super obsessed fan high in his hate page he was willing to drop her down a level if it meant finding his brother.

Seeing Dean Winchester standing on the other side of her door was the last thing Becky ever expected to see upon opening the door. She also wasn’t expecting to have a laptop shoved at her. “What? Who? Find who?” she managed to stutter, looking around Dean’s practically seething form as steps were heard running up the hall.

“Damn, Dean,” Garth gasped, balancing take out Chinese containers in his arms that he’d gotten from the delivery guy since he sure hadn’t wanted that poor man running into the irate hunter. “What about saying ‘Hi’ first then demanding she find him?”

“I don’t have time to say ‘Hi’. That bitch has had him for way too long,” Dean argued back, green eyes still locked on the wide ones of the young woman that he’d known would be trouble for them from the first night Chuck sent her to them. “I can’t make sense of this damn thing half the time and I figure one nutcase obsessed with my brother should be able to find another nutcase obsessed with him.”

As Garth rolled his eyes while offering a tiny smile and handing over the Chinese food, he tried to get between the two but by this time Becky had picked up on what Dean was saying and pounced.

“Sam?” she looked between the two hunters, dumping her dinner on the table before turning back. “Sam’s…in trouble?”

Having read all of the books Chuck write on the Winchester brothers, she knew it took a lot to push Dean to get to this stage of anxiety and considering his last words to her had been pretty clear, Becky reasoned whatever had brought the elder Winchester to her must be serious.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her nerves about Dean being here slowly leaving at the thought of Sam, the man of her dreams, possibly being hurt or worse if she took his brother’s expression to mean anything. “Where’s Sam or…hey!”

The laptop was shoved into her hands again as Dean stepped into the apartment fully while ignoring Garth’s little smile at Becky. “Short of it...Sam met a woman while I was in Purgatory for a year. I thought it was pretty straightforward…or it was if you listen to him but now I’m not so sure.

“Sometime yesterday while I was out at the store and getting a flat tire she showed up at…where we were staying, drugged Sammy, made him write a note to me that was all pure bullshit and then she and two sons of bitches kidnapped my brother,” Dean refused to go into more details right then because he knew if he did he’d probably get sick.

Motioning to the laptop he’d brought, he still could see the disturbing video of his drugged little brother being undressed by Amelia Richardson. He could see the fear in Sam’s eyes and again felt his blood boil but an elbow to the ribs reminded him that he must have started to snarl because the big eyed girl in front of him had backed up several steps.

“There’s video of it but…it’s too…weak to be able to make out what was being said in some spots in case the bitch mentioned where she was taking Sam or what the hell the deal with this stunt was,” he sighed, forcing his fists to uncurl while facing Becky and wasn’t surprised to see her eyes wide with shock and fear.

Becky’s obsession with Sam had gotten her on Dean’s shit list more than once and her last stunt had nearly gotten her killed if he hadn’t found them before she’d pushed her plan more…even though Dean suspected that more had happened between her and Sam than his brother had admitted at the time.

Even though the little nut had an unhealthy obsession for Sam, enough of one that she actually thought drugging him, marrying him, hitting him in the head with Dean’s own wedding gift then tying him up on a bed would work, Dean actually did have less doubt of Becky’s intentions than he had of Amelia’s right then.

That’s why he’d shoved his dislike aside to come to her for help locating his brother, because he knew if anyone would want to find Sam it would be Becky…if he could keep from killing her in the meanwhile.

“They also have some of Sam’s credit cards so I need someone who knows a little bit about computers to be able to look online for them,” Dean blew out a breath at her scrunched up face. “See if you can find out if anyone used the cards or do one of those searches to see if Sam’s name or…hers comes up or…look, this is Sammy’s area but…”

Carefully placing Sam’s laptop down on desk, Becky had to take several moments to compose herself before looking back toward Dean and Garth. “Sam met someone who managed to drug him, overpower him and kidnap him?” she blinked. “How? Why?”

Lifting one eyebrow as if asking if she’d really just gone there, Dean smirked. “How’d you do it?” he tossed back, seeing her slight blush then sighed again as Garth mumbled about help. “Sam…he hasn’t been right since coming back from Texas and something about the way he acted a few times is making me think this isn’t the first time she’s drugged him but…Becky…God, I’ll probably go back to Hell for this.

“Becky, I need help finding Sammy before this psycho does more to him than what she hinted to on that,” he didn’t miss the way her blue eyes opened wider and decided if he wanted Sam back then he’d toss all his cards out and cover the damage after this was done. “Sam needs your help.”

“You had me at ‘Sam’s in trouble’,” she replied, sitting down to open the laptop to at least see what she could find on the video feed that may help and also so she could get a better look at the woman who might have hurt Sam.

Dean walked away as the video feed from back at the cabin began to play because he didn’t need to see it again. It had been etched into his memory and would probably stay there for the next long while.

Leaving Becky, with Garth hanging over her shoulder, to view it, he took the time to examine the apartment with a critical eye and if his rage at Amelia wasn’t so huge right then he might be tempted to remind Becky about his last warning of what he’d do if she didn’t back off his brother.

Flipping over a photo of Sam and the girl that was on a side table, he rolled his eyes since he could still see Sam from both this time in the cabin and the night he and Garth had got him back from Becky.

Those damn puppy dog eyes would always be his undoing and he vowed to find Sam as soon as he could, turning to hear Garth choke while only a seasoned professional would have picked up the slight change in the way Becky sat as she viewed the screen.

To Dean, Sam’s number one fan had been nothing more than a major flake and a pain in their ass from the start but she also seemed like a harmless flake that was mellow and easy going…until he seen the way she straightened more to lean closer to the screen.

He watched the way her whole body slowly began to tense and guessed which part of the video was now showing when Garth turned a panicked look back at him while Becky’s hand clenched into a fist that for a moment Dean wondered if she’d put it through the screen like he’d been tempted to when he watched his little brother practically be mauled by that sociopath.

“Oh…she did not just…” blinking back tears, Becky run through the video a second time with a much more clinical eye than either hunter really expected then with a quick slash to her eyes to dry them she shot Dean a look of pure fierceness. “What is the bitch’s name?” she wanted to know.

She had seen slight fear in Sam’s eyes after she’d gagged him that final time while trying to force him to swallow the drug but that was nothing in comparison to the terror she’d recognized in him on that video.

Becky was a naïve girl who openly admitted to anyone that she was shy…except for her one obsession but she’d met other people who delved into things a bit more deeply than she’d felt comfortable with.

Hell, she wrote stories of the brothers together in a not so brotherly way and yet what she watched and listened to Amelia do and say to Sam had sickened her. Plus, she hadn’t appreciated the little tart laying hands on what she still silently regarded as hers.

“Amelia…Amelia Richardson though she might use her maiden name,” Dean shrugged, having no clue what the woman’s name had been before marrying her husband or if that even was her name by this point. “I have all the names on the cards if…um, Becky? Let go of Garth before you break his wrist,” he’d seen the skinnier hunter wince the moment the young woman had latched onto him rather than smash the computer.

“Oh, sorry,” she shot a brief look up at him with a small smile before shooting Dean another look. “She’s done this before,” nodding back to the computer where she’d managed to clean up the audio a little. “She didn’t say anything about where they were going but she sure hinted at what she was going to do when they got there but…”

Becky was torn between telling Sam’s brother something else she’d picked up from the now clearer audio or keeping her apartment in one piece because if she’d pissed Dean off she knew exactly how he’d take this next bit of news.

“But?” Dean had always hated that word and hearing it from Becky while Garth suddenly found a speck on the floor very interesting warned him that this time his hate for it was going to triple. “But what?” he demanded, eyes narrowing at the nervous way she bit her lip. “Becky? Tell me what you heard.”

“She’s planning on…oh, God. I’ll…be right back,” bolting into the bathroom, Becky was glad she hadn’t eaten the Chinese yet since everything came up as she pictured the very vivid images she’d heard being described.

Grabbing Garth by the front of his jacket, Dean didn’t even have to growl at the other man to get his point across as Garth was waving his hands to urge restraint.

“It wasn’t much but it was pretty clear that this chick has issues, Dean,” he sighed when he was lifted off the floor. “She told Sam that…he’d be the main attraction at a private party she was going to throw once they got ‘home’ and that he’d preform for them and with them like she’d made him before,” he chewed his lip while deciding to add the rest. “She said that if he was a good boy that she’d make the drugs strong enough that he wouldn’t remember or feel the pain and…Dean!”

Dropping Garth to slam a fist into the closest wall, Dean’s stomach was turning while his vision had gone red with rage. “ _I. Want. Them. Found_.”

There was no mistaking the hate, the fury, and the buried fear in the elder Winchester’s voice as all that information sank in and it took him all of five seconds to realize she didn’t just plan to keep Sam drugged to use as her own toy but she was going to…

“Oh, hell, no,” he growled, feeling the same panic as he had when he’d gotten to Sam at Becky’s cabin only a lot more severely. “You…I need him…”

“We’ll find him,” Becky replied as she stepped back in, still pale but determined because she’d recognized all the signs on crazy in that woman on the screen and thinking of Sam being used as a sex toy was one thing since she’d had those types of fantasies before but knowing what else he was being groomed for…no, she refused to think that and would find him or at least a lead to him.

“Never mess with an obsessed fan’s obsession,” Garth spoke under her breath then offered a bright smile as Becky glowered while booting her own computer up to begin putting out feelers among her online friends and also to see what it would bring up if she red flagged the cards.

Feeling the urge to also see what happened if she put in the woman’s name and occupation since Garth had told her that piece of information while Dean had been surveying her home, Becky silently feared they wouldn’t be able to get a solid link in time to do Sam any good.

“This could take some time depending on how good she covered her tracks,” she warned, feeling the heat of Dean’s eyes as he stepped up to try to make sense of what he was seeing in the multiple windows and nearly jumped when he laid a hand on her shoulder.

“If she wasn’t so damn good at covering for herself I’d’ve already found the bitch,” he replied, offering a small smile of amusement when she cracked her knuckles as if preparing for a fight and began tackling the keys again. “Becky…thanks.”

If she hadn’t been sitting down and wasn’t trying to focus Becky knew she probably would’ve fell off the chair or fainted because getting that from Dean Winchester told her just how desperate he was to find Sam. “Can…I see Sam after this?” she asked quietly, figuring the answer even before Dean leaned down into her face with a warning look. “Didn’t think so but figured it couldn’t hurt to try.”

As Garth groaned and Dean debated on the wiseness of this move again, the sound of Dean’s phone caught everything else off as the hunter snagged it while stepping back to allow the fan fiction writer some space to work and to ignore the subtle signs she and Garth were giving off.

About to answer if a far more friendly tone than he felt like, Dean caught sight of the number and held off since it wasn’t like the Sheriff of Sioux Falls to call on her work phone unless this was going to be a business call and if it was that meant she’d found out something bad.

“Sheriff Mills,” he greeted after taking enough deep breaths that his tone was more level and it didn’t sound like he was ready to kill the next son of a bitch that spoke to him. “I…wasn’t expecting to hear back from you this soon.”

Though in truth, Dean had been hoping to hear back from the woman several hours earlier after he’d dropped off the used needle, the leftover powder and glass at her office to see if her contacts could possibly tell him what type of drugs had been used on Sam.

He’d hated to get her involved but since he hadn’t felt like going the fake Fed route right then and Jodi Mills was the only cop he and Sam knew that actually knew what they did he’d been out of options. Now he hoped he hadn’t made another mistake.

“Agent…Criss, sorry it’s taken me this long to get back to you about this matter,” the little fumble in the name and the fact that Jodi was using one of his fake federal names instantly told Dean that the lady cop either wasn’t alone or this call was on a conference line.

Both suggestions meant that something had come up that had turned a simple drug analysis into a much bigger matter. It also meant a much bigger headache for Dean in this had spread because he did not want anyone else involved in this case.

“No problem,” he replied with a lot more calm than he really felt while motioning for Garth to get down to the Impala and make sure he even had the ID of that name with him this trip since he couldn’t recall the last time or badge he’d used the name of the drummer for KISS on. “Did you find out about those items I gave you?”

Looking over her desk at the grim faced man in the dark suit that just screamed FED, Jodi wanted to sigh but kept her professional face on. “Yes and while I have the toxicology report back on those items it appears as if the name you asked me to run…red-flagged another agency and I have an Agent Bryan Markus in my office from Homeland Security,” she stressed the last two words while keeping a smile on her face and hoping she didn’t get the expected response from the other end of the line.

“Shit! I hate those assholes,” Dean muttered, hearing the sharp breath from the Sheriff and figured this was on speaker. “Before I ask what triggered the flag that pulled him out, what were the drugs?” he asked, never comfortable when real Feds got involved and especially not that agency since he couldn’t be sure if he and Sam were off the federal radar again or not.

“Well, a little of both actually,” Jodi replied carefully, not bothering to disguise her tone of displeasure over the hunter’s outburst but filed it away to slap him over later since she knew by this point she was just glad Dean wasn’t snarling over the phone…yet. “All three samples were mainly of the same drug while the glass had a combination of two mixed in it.”

Looking over the report, she tried to make sense of it and how it was explained before finally motioning to the Fed in her office that didn’t look much older than Dean himself. “I think the agent can give a better explanation since he basically dumbed it down for me. Agent? This is Agent Criss of the FBI as I explained earlier.”

Bryan Markus knew the local Sheriff hadn’t appreciated his arrival or when he shut her out of the system that had just picked up a case he’d been working for too many years to count. He also had a small hunch that the man on the speaker was not FBI, but he’d get to that if he needed to.

Reaching up to undo his tie, the blond haired agent from Homeland Security leaned closer to the telephone. “Agent, can I assume you’re not close to South Dakota any longer?” this would be so much easier if he could speak to the man face to face.

“You could say that,” Dean motioned Becky to keep working as he caught the ID tossed his way and fought not to breathe a sigh of relief that the name was actually on one of his fake FBI badges. “I’m tracking leads to where my…partner might be being held so I need to know what the drugs were and why the hell the bitch’s name got me Homeland Security,” he was too tired, too on edge and too worried for Sam to bother with pretending to give a care who he was talking to by this point.

Eyebrows lifting at the sharp tone in the now gruff voice along with the choice of words, Markus didn’t miss the brief look of pained dismay of the Sheriff’s face. “Have you ever dealt with the drug Scopolamine before, Agent?” he had his doubts but then heard the harsh cursing come over the phone.

Dean had heard of damn drug before but when he’d been young and hustling pool it hadn’t been as popular or as widely known as GBH had been.

Since Sam’s experience with Becky and he’d looked up on the new drugs that people used to drug a victim, this one kept popping up and in his heart he’d been praying that it wasn’t what Amelia had used on Sam since he knew just how easy it was to OD on that one.

He also knew the way that drug worked and it just spelled more issues for him because it would be so easy for Sam to be hurt, like he must have been before, and not remember a single damn thing except in maybe flashes.

“Agent?” he heard the other man calling him and fought back the urge to snarl when he sighed instead. “New drug the pushers and rapists like to use on victims these days since it doesn’t knock the vic out but keeps ‘em awake so they can…react to every damn order given to them,” Dean recalled seeing how easy she’d controlled Sam on the video feed and felt his fist curling as it wanted to lash out.

“It’s colorless, odorless and tasteless and comes from certain plants including the Belladonna plant which if I’m up on my poisonous plants is pretty damn dangerous,” he sneered into the phoned. “How close am I?”

There was no mistaking the tone now as a temper being pushed down but he nodded, impressed. “Right. It’s also used in some forms of interrogation though that’s not supposed to be publically known because it’s more reliable as a truth serum…unless the victim has a weak heart then it’s a little dangerous but I’m assuming your ‘partner’ doesn’t fall into that category?”

Hearing the low growl start and swearing he could hear someone else tell the man he was talking to not to break the phone, he looked up into the concerned eyes of Sheriff Mills and knew this was more personal than she first let on.

“The other drug found mixed in the glass with the scopolamine with ketamine, which I’d be surprised over since it’s mainly used by vets but then that’s where the name fits in, right…Agent Criss?” he asked, tapping a finger on the file marked _Confidential_ that he’d brought with him. “When you had Sheriff Mills run Amelia Richardson’s name it hit a flag with our office.”

“Why?” Dean was at a loss over that one since while he knew the woman was probably a sociopathic demented sex fiend he didn’t figure she was a threat to national security…though he’d been wrong about a good many things these days so nothing would surprise him. “Do not even tell me she’s in the Witness Protection program because then you and I might have a serious problem.”

Believing that was simple just by the tone of voice. He had no doubts at all that this man meant business and if their cases did overlap like he feared they did then things were going to get messy…and bloody since he couldn’t allow his target to die and this man didn’t sound like he planned to do the whole handcuff bit, especially if his partner was hurt.

“No, not the WPP so to speak,” he began slowly, offering his own smirk at the breath he could hear being released. “Does the name Stan Thompson ring a bell?”

Tossing Garth a look, Dean scowled while the other hunter whispered something to Becky. “No. Should it?” he demanded, not having time for games when with each passing hour his little brother’s chances were decreasing. “That’s not the name I gave Jodi…Sheriff Mills and please…for the sake of my lunch do not even say the word cross-dresser or I swear I’ll puke.”

Garth nearly did while Becky about twisted out of the chair but Dean scowled at the snort of laughter he got from the actual Federal agent.

“No…um, okay disturbing image there but Stan Thompson is the father of one Amelia Thompson Richardson and he’s also ex-Army with a few friends in high places so when his only little girl disappeared last week he placed some calls and your run on her name light the board up like the Fourth of July,” Markus explained, opening the file enough to gaze at something he’d marked himself. “Care to tell me what your interest in her is and why you think she’d be responsible for the drugging and kidnapping of your…partner, Agent Criss?” he asked curiously, figuring he wasn’t going to get a reply so he was shocked when he did.

“Because I have a video of her drugging him, having a couple pals beat him up a little when he was pretty much paralyzed from her damn drugs and if that damn video would’ve showed her doing anything more than what it did you and I wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Dean growled.

“I’m sure she’s done it before during the time last year that he was with her in Texas by what she said so you might want to tell your pal that his precious little girl is a sick little bitch who will be seeing the barrel of my Colt right before I put a .45 round through her damn heart for touching my…” he barely cut off in time to stop himself from using the word that just so naturally came to him. “Federal protection shouldn’t extended to sex fiends, Markus and I can tell you without even seeing a file that’s what she is because I’ve known plenty of those in my time.

“Now she’s got something of mine and I intend to get him back no matter who I have to go through to do it so take my advice and lose that file and my number,” Dean growled, more furious that the woman’s father had so much pull to get Homeland Security involved and that could spell serious issues in the long run. “I’ve got to go and…”

“Winchester!”

Finger poised to hit the ‘End’ button on his phone, Dean froze. “Come again?”

Markus offered a calm smile to the shocked face of Jodi Mills as he flipped the file open to show her that it wasn’t just Amelia Richardson he had notes on. “I know who you are…Dean. I’m guessing you’re Dean and that it’s your brother Amelia’s grabbed. Now do you want to talk or do we do this the hard way? Either way’s fine by me but I have more information that you really should see before you go into this half-cocked…though that’s your usual MO, isn’t it?”

“You son of a bitch,” this time there was no way to misunderstand the fury in Dean’s voice as Garth made a grab for the vase of flowers he’d been about to throw while pretending it was the smug Fed’s face. “So we can drop the Fed to Fed act and you know that I don’t play by your rules and that bitch dies for touching my brother. Also…if you get in my face, you’ll be a second behind her so stay the hell away from this!”

The angry bang meant either that Dean had found a way to disconnect a cellphone with a slam or he broke his phone.

Right then Jodi wasn’t certain and what she was certain of is her career was probably shot but before she could try to come up with a plausible lie a set of cool blue eyes moved her way. “I don’t suppose it would help to say he’s not always this way?” she sighed, wishing she could rue the day she meant the Winchesters but couldn’t because she’d formed too soft a spot for both boys. “Sam…he’s…”

“Dean’s little brother and anyone who touches Dean Winchester’s little brother usually ends up bleeding or dying,” Bryan Markus finished for her with a dry grin, standing with his files in hand. “I’m only too aware of that, Sheriff Mills and if I know anything then it’ll be where that hot headed jackass will be going next.”

Jodi was being blindsided left and right because she’d expected the real Federal agent to be furious about Dean’s impersonation but while he did seem annoyed it looked more like he was annoyed at being hung up on by the irate hunter. “Wait,” she grabbed for his arm on instinct. “Why do you think you know where he’s going and…Agent Markus, please don’t try to keep him from finding his brother.”

“He’s going to want to know where Amelia went and if he hasn’t locked on to her yet then that means there’s one place for him to go yet and that’s to Kermit, Texas,” Markus knew that was where the last address had been and he wished he’d gotten that little tidbit earlier. “He’ll go for her husband and since Don Richardson is ex-military himself I don’t know if Mr. Hotshot can handle that or if he’s prepared for the can of worms he’s about to unleash if he does.”

Surprised that he hadn’t taken her badge, Jodi slumped back behind her desk with a curse at the late Bobby Singer for ever getting her involved with the Winchesters then she started trying to call Dean to warn him what was headed his way. “Damn stubborn moron,” she swore, wondering how long it would take her to drive to Texas.

“You hung up on a Fed?” Becky stared, amazed that Dean’s head wasn’t blowing up considering that vein in his forehead was really visible after he’d slammed his phone done. “He knew you weren’t…”

“He knew my name and he knew who Sam was,” Dean didn’t like the implications of that and really wished he’d looked to see if Frank or even Charlie had gotten them off the Feds Most Wanted list from the last time they’d gotten on it.

Right then though he didn’t give a crap. He cared about his brother. He cared about what could be happening to Sam even as he was wasting time and knew he had one more place to check out that could lead him to the bitch.

“You stay here with her and keep trying to lock onto something to point me in their direction,” he ordered Garth in the tone he only used when seriously pissed. “I don’t care what rules you have to break, what locks you need to open…just find me that goddamn bitch so I can skin her if she put her hands on my brother.”

Having heard that tone only once and that was the night he thought the elder Winchester would kill Becky on sight, Garth merely nodded and stayed silent until well after the apartment door slammed shut, leaving just him and Becky.

“Someone is going to bleed when he locks onto them,” he breathed, pulling a chair over to sit by Becky. “Okay, let’s find this lady before Dean goes postal…or worse.”

** Kermit, Texas…: **

It had taken Dean more time than he liked to get from Lawrence, Kansas to Kermit, Texas since he’d gotten stopped by a phone call from an irate Missouri threatening to hit him with everything up to and including her kitchen sink if he didn’t find his brother.

Learning that the older woman had been woken up by a dream of his little brother screaming for him had not relieved any of his guilt or worry and had made him even more determined to get to Texas to (A) see what the house his brother had lived in could tell him and (B) just what role the husband had to play in this little travesty had been.

Now knowing he had a damn Federal agent on the case and on the wrong side, Dean knew his time was even more limited to find Sam and deal with his abductor in a way that she deserved but to do either he needed to find where the damn woman might be hiding out.

Tracking down the address wasn’t hard since Sam had it written down on a piece of paper. A quick look around told him no one was home which he knew Amelia wouldn’t have brought Sam back here just by what she’d said to him but he had been expecting her husband to possibly be home.

“Sammy ain’t the only one who can pick a lock,” he muttered though would never admit that his little brother could do it slightly quicker than he could. “Voila.”

Taking care of the alarm system before he’d started, Dean pulled his .45 as he entered the house when movement to his left had him whirling only to see a dog standing there watching him with a curious look.

If he were honest with himself, Dean had a slight issue with dogs. It was hard to be ripped to pieces by a hellhound and a couple bad experiences with a Yorkie or two and not have dog issues.

“So she kept his dog,” he wasn’t sure to feel sorry for the animal or not but didn’t move or aim the weapon as the big clumsy looking animal came closer to sniff his hand rather than growl like he’d expect a guard dog to do. “Huh, leave it to Sammy to find a dog almost as clumsy as he used to be before he grew into those long legs and big feet.”

Dean thought back to one of Sam’s nightmares where he’d been calling out to the dog and slowly knelt down to allow it to further sniff him. “Hey, Riot,” he whispered softly, relaxing more when his hand wasn’t chewed and couldn’t help but laugh a little after Riot decided he wasn’t a threat and dropped to roll over to expose his belly. “Yeah, I can see you’ve been with Sammy.”

Rubbing the dog’s belly for a second or two, Dean let his eyes roam the living room but didn’t see anything left to even say his brother was there…except for the dog and he wondered which had been harder for Sam to leave, the woman or the dog since his brother had always had a soft spot for animals.

“Sammy’s in trouble and I need to find him so how about you stay here, maybe bark if anyone comes in and we’ll get my baby brother back,” he shook his head when he realized he was talking to a dog but could’ve sworn the animal was listening as it laid down and made no move to stop his exploration of the house.

It Dean all of twenty minutes to decide there wasn’t anything of use up here when he spotted the basement door and his senses kicked up to max because as a hunter it nailed failed that if anything was rotten he’d find it in the basement.

“So long as this one doesn’t come equipped with a floor full of water and a damn Rawhead this should be easy as pie,” he told himself, using his penlight to show the way but was glad the basement had a low light he could turn on.

It looked like a normal basement as he roamed around, moving this and that as if trying to find a clue to why a normal looking woman had suddenly turned kidnapper when the big locked door at the other end caught his eye and also had his warning bells kicking into high gear.

“Yeah, because it is so normal to have a locked steel door in a basement this size,” he snorted, finding this lock a little more difficult to pick but finally heard it click and pulled it open while shining his light in. “ _Sonuvabitch_.”

Not sure what he was expecting, the room with heavy chains on the walls, floor and ceiling hadn’t been it. Thinking back to what he’d heard her say about Sam in chains made him ice cold as hot green eyes began looking hard around this room.

It was less than five minutes before Dean decided he needed to lift Becky up another level because while she might have tied his brother to a bed she sure as hell never had a little sex dungeon equipped with chains, a drop down bed that also had chains in various locations attached to it and a rolling cart with a full assortment of toys and torture devices that made the hunter squirm just thinking about their uses.

The cart drawer was where he found the most damning evidence against Amelia because unless he gouged his eyes out with fire, Dean doubted if he’d ever see anything worse than his little brother hanging naked in those chains, bleeding from places that Dean knew he’d never notice scars because Sam’s clothes would always hide them.

Swallowing bile as it wanted to come up, he stared hard at the photo of Sam chained on the bed, a heavy gag strapped in his mouth while clips were attached to his already raw looking nipples.

Dean didn’t need to see the wires to know what those clips were attached to and he knew without looking at the other photos that his brother hadn’t just been drugged and used as the occasional toy.

No. Sam had been drugged to the point where he couldn’t fight back or wouldn’t try to and used a goddamn sex slave for this woman’s demented enjoyment.

“Damn it, Sammy,” he shoved the photos in his pocket while trying to ignore the images of what Sam had gone through and probably was enduring now. “Hang on, little brother. I’m going to…” he cut off at the first bark. “Well, what d’ya know, the dog actually listened.”

Slipping the .45 away, Dean pulled his old hunting knife as he made his way back upstairs to have a little heart to heart with the stupid bastard who’d actually married this sick bitch. “And he better have answers to what I want to know,” he decided, fury filling him again as he thought of Sam…probably exhausted, sick, scared and who had just hit a dog.

His little brother who looked at first glance like he could take on the world without a blink was just a soft hearted kid who still trusted way too much, especially when it came to animals and soft eyed females with a sob story.

Even as he was waiting for the man to enter, Dean had a pretty clear picture on what must have happened from the moment Sam hit Riot and wandered into Amelia’s lair, as he know thought of the vet clinic as, and probably had been marked as a target from the second she looked at him.

Dean wasn’t stupid. He’d pretty much raised his brother and never denied that Sam was a good looking guy since in Dean’s opinion Sammy had been blessed with his fair share of Winchester genes.

Ever since Sam had hit that growth spurt at fourteen and slowly grew into his limbs, Dean had been guarding his little brother’s back from more than just the threat of the supernatural.

He’d been beating up guys who’d gotten a few too many ideas about his floppy haired, soft spoken brother and he’d made it plain to more than a few females that had had one too many guys notched on their beds that his brother wasn’t just a cheap one night stand.

There had been two times in their lives growing up that he hadn’t been able to protect Sam but he’d made damn sure those sons of bitches bled and he had more than a few times in the last eight years wished he’d been able to shield his brother more from the human style of scum.

This time as he heard the key in the lock and knew the man had felt something off, Dean was positive that when he got Sam back that this would never be happening again. “Hey, asshole,” he whispered, moving before the man had a chance to blink and the fight was on.

** Kermit, Texas…Present:  **

“Sammy,” he whispered, still hearing the panic in Garth’s voice and the disgust is Becky’s when he felt a hand on his shoulder and only a quick look had him not responding and smashing Don Richardson’s face in as he nudged Dean into the chair he’d pulled out. “You have a computer?”

Don knew the guy didn’t need to see what he was sure would be shown in whatever link he was going to get but also accepted he couldn’t hide this ant longer. “Yeah, use this but…give me a second and…I can probably find the link buried in her files,” he stated grimly, feeling the heat of those green eyes burning into his back.

“Dude, if I didn’t need you alive for the next little while I would so kill you,” Dean growled, shifting in the chair as Don began going through files on the laptop that it took a little digging to find. “Hack your wife’s stuff much?”

“I haven’t since before we were married,” he admitted, adding in a much softer voice. “Not since the last time she did this crap to some poor kid she met in her first year of veterinary school.”

Thinking that the black haired, brown eyed woman had drugged Sam before this time had been one thing to make Dean sick to his stomach but finally hearing that she’d done this type of thing before, probably more than once, finished it and he made it to the kitchen sink in time to lose what little food he’d managed to grab since this nightmare began.

“You saying Sammy wasn’t the first guy that she’s…damn it, I should’ve ganked her ass before now,” he muttered, going through a few rounds of dry heaves before washing his mouth out with water while wishing the soldier had something stronger. “How many?”

Working on finding the link that would probably match the one sent to Dean’s phone, Don kept his head down until a hard grip landed on his neck and he winced. “After I met her…I know of two. She promised she was done with this crap when we got married but her tastes in what we did in bed was getting more extreme and I…enlisted,” he looked up sadly.

“I don’t know how many she might’ve done this to before we met but…her Aunt tried to warn me before we got married that Mel wasn’t…right. I didn’t listen and…I guess I still didn’t listen to what my own gut was saying when I got back,” he shook his head when he finally cracked a complex series of encrypted files and knew which one was running on a live feed by the way the file kept expanding. “I’m…sorry.”

“Sorry? Sorry for what?” Dean scowled when the link clicked on after a moment of blank space while the computer tried to catch up with the live feed going on. “What the hell did those two idiots find? How’s this connected with…no, oh God, no.”

Yanking the chair closer to the screen, Dean rubbed at his eyes to make sure they were clear and that he wasn’t seeing anything as the blurry image slowly became clearer as whoever was using the camera drew back to a better angle of what was taking place on the massive king size bed in a room that seemed filled with too many people.

It wasn’t the massive bed or the number of people, men and women, who were crowded around it that was now locking Dean Winchester’s attention.

No, he really couldn’t give a rat’s ass about them except to sear their faces into his memory for payback. It was the limp, bloodied form tied to the bed, his arms and legs spread painfully to be tied to each of the four posts of the heavy wooden frame.

Sam’s dark hair which was getting too long again now laid in limp waves over his face, mostly shielding his half open eyes that seemed to be staring out blindly despite what was going on around him…too him.

Garth’s declaration that Amelia was bleeding his brother had led Dean to expect the woman was just playing some sick games in the minor league arena so far and he did see thin trails of blood running from Sam’s wrists as they were tied to the headboard but he also saw more blood on his brother’s bare chest that was running much more freely.

Unaware of when his fingers curled around the edge of the table to keep him launching into violence, Dean had never felt more helpless than he did right at that moment as the camera slid around to get a better view of Amelia, her long dark hair flowing over her breasts, as she straddled his brother’s hips while moaning breathy little orders that the drugs in Sam made it impossible for him to fight against.

Hearing the mocking laughs of the other people in the room, Dean felt his stomach about to revolt on him again as he was forced to watch his drugged brother be forced to have sex with a woman he’d thought he could trust.

Dean knew only too well what drugs like this could do and he wasn’t surprised that she’d used one that still allowed Sam’s body to respond to the physical and sexual stimulation but kept him helpless to do anything but what he was ordered to do.

A look at the internal time of the live feed made his blood run cold. This one had been running for going on three hours and he could tell by the way Sam’s chest was heaving as he tried to breathe through only his nose as the bitch had put a ball gag in his mouth that she and her pals had been working Sam for awhile.

Unaware or ignoring the wetness on his cheeks as his eyes zeroed in as the woman who had just become his number one enemy, moved and Dean knew in addition to the obvious wounds Sam had and the drugs she probably kept shooting him up with why his brother’s eyes were blown so wide there was no color showing except for a thin ring of hazel.

“That goddamn _sonuvabitch_!” he knew if he could get to her through the screen that he’d rip her heart out with his bare hands.

Knowing, seeing this brother helpless and being raped for the sick enjoyment of not only the people in the room who seemed to be enjoying taking brief turns at Sam but knowing it was also being feed live to the online world of sick and demented twisted Dean’s already burning temper up to full blown but it was when he laid eyes on the little clamps hooked to Sam’s chest and ran down his arching body to the cock ring she’d put on Sam to force him to endure their abuse with no relief on his part.

Then the person wielding the camera decided to show the whole online audience something he or she found amusing and the hunter felt as if his head would explode. “What the _hell_ did that bitch put on my brother?” he growled, seeing the ring on Sam’s penis wasn’t like anything Dean had ever seen before and he knew he’d seen and done a lot of stuff in his life.

“She…called it a three-ring or something like that,” Don couldn’t watch this, letting his eyes stay on Dean’s back and not missing a single way the hunter tensed with every moan Amelia elicited from the younger Winchester. “It’s to…”

“I know what it’s for, jackass!” Dean snapped, wanting to scream in rage as Sam’s body arched in the tight restraints as another hand moved past Amelia who was giving further orders to her ‘toy’ as she rode him and laughed as the other hand, too large to be female, groped his brother and that was it.

Jerking his phone open, he had Garth dialed even as his eyes stayed locked on Sam’s face to see the pain coming more as some of the drugs wore off in the exertion and he strained to struggle only to groan as a needle came into view. “Garth! Have Becky shut this goddamn thing down… _NOW_!” he shouted, not caring if he was crying or not because the fear and pain that came briefly in Sam’s eyes brought back other times to Dean. Times when he’d vowed to never let another sick SOB touch his brother.

The feed began to flicker just as Amelia spoke to someone off camera and Dean noticed it was one of the men she had with her up at the cabin, one of the bastards he planned to kill very slowly, and that urge increased when he realized in between fuzzy lines began to come through the live feed that she was telling the man he could…

“No…Sammy…” he felt like screaming, killing someone or puking again as the live event was shut down when Becky must have finally found the key to knocking it offline even though Dean knew that while the feed was down his brother was still being tortured and raped. “You do know I’m going to kill your wife, don’t you?” he spoke back to Don in a tone that Dean himself didn’t even recognize.

Don had shed his own tears as well as lost his dinner toward the end and knew that after seeing just this brief taste of what Amelia had done to his brother that Dean would without any doubt in his mind do just what he said…and he wasn’t certain if he’d blame him.

“I’m…I didn’t know she’d…I’m sorry,” he whispered, ears picking up on another sound but before he could mention it or move he had an irate hunter in his face again.

“Fuck your sorry!” Dean was beyond enraged and it showed in his actions now. “Sorry isn’t going to help Sam now! It isn’t going to stop this from going further until I can get to him! It isn’t going to take this nightmare away from him! It isn’t going to…goddamn it.”

Senses bred into him since he was old enough to hunt finally worked through his rage to allow him to feel the threat but even as he was shoving away from Don to whirl, reaching for his gun he saw stars as something crashed into the side of his head with enough force to knock him to one knee.

Snarling, his head ringing and his eyes blurry with tears and now white light from the force of the blow, Dean tried to react only to hear the sound of a weapon cocking right next to his ear just as a voice spoke from within the gaining darkness.

“Been a long time, Dean…or are we still going to try the Agent Criss line?” Agent Bryan Markus held his official weapon aimed steady just behind the hunter’s left ear with his finger on the trigger. “Or maybe we should just call this one even and you can say bye-bye?” he asked as he lightly touched the trigger.

“ **BOOM**!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took longer. The Finale distracted me. As CH 4 progresses Sam and Amelia should be coming into it as live figures rather than on a screen…I won’t promise how long or if the woman will live if Dean gets his hands on her.  
> Thanks to everyone who is reading this one. Since this one is pushing my usual limits it means a lot that you trust me this much to take this dark a turn…of course this is me and I always fix what I break. To the best of my ability.  
> Look for CH 4 soon.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some language in this one but toward the end, (as always it seems in this one) is where the more graphic stuff comes in. Some explicit scenes since this is where Sam and Amelia come in to so be aware of this as it does have non-con.

**Chapter Four**

**BOOM!**

Not expecting the shoulder to slam into him, Agent Bryan Markus barely had time to jerk the barrel of his 9mm Beretta aside to avoid accidentally discharging the round into Dean Winchester’s stunned brain. “Shit!” he cursed viciously, body going into an automatic counter move as he went with the shove to drop into a side roll while coming up to reaim at his new target and ignoring the .45 that was pointed at him.

“Drop it,” Don Richardson had watched in horror as this stranger attacked a man that the ex-soldier knew had to be emotionally reeling after watching his brother be raped over the live computer feed.

He knew Dean could’ve handled this guy under better circumstances since he’d wasted no effort in dealing with Don but neither of them had been expecting the Fed to come in and immediately attack.

Not needing to guess who or why he was here, Don hadn’t hesitated to grab the fallen .45 that had dropped when Dean had gone down after the hit to his head. Now reflexes that he thought he’d buried when he came home shot to the surface and he didn’t flinch at either the discharge of the Beretta or the glare the Fed was shooting him now as that same 9mm aimed his way.

“I’m a United States special agent from Homeland Security, Mr. Richardson. I’d suggest you point that thing someplace else,” Markus warned, blue eyes steel as he didn’t waver except for a quick glance at Dean’s groan from where he laid after being shoved of the way to avoid accidentally discharged weapon.

“I know who you are and where you’re from. I also know my father-in-law called in favors from his buddies to send you down here to either find my wife or cover up for her…again,” Don had heard rumors that Stan Thompson had done that before in Amelia’s youth but hadn’t believed it until now.

“You aren’t shooting this guy because all he’s done is try to find his brother before my wife and her…habits gets him hurt or worse but it’s too late for that but I’ll be damned if you’ll kill him, letting Sam suffer until Mel tires of him all because the old boys network is working in overtime!” he snapped, stepping closer without thinking. “My wife has his brother and while I can’t take back what she’s done to him already I sure as Hell can help him before it gets worse so you’re not shooting…urgh!”

Markus waited until the Afghanistan veteran took one more step before lunging up from the floor in a move that looked too practiced to have been spur of the moment and slamming his forehead into the man’s face.

The blow and the lunge took Don off guard so when he fell backwards he tried to catch himself which loosened his grip on Dean’s gun. Instead of falling however he found himself shoved into the wall with a 9mm in the hollow of his throat and a very irate Fed in his face.

“I wasn’t trying to shoot Dean, asshole!” Markus yelled, a warning clear in his hard gaze that he would shoot Don without a thought if given another reason. “ _You_ nearly made me shoot him by that damn stunt of knocking me off balance!”

“I…Stan called you! He wants his buddies to cover for her like he’s done before but…” Don swallowed when the barrel moved to his temple and he subsided, seeing a slight move from the corner of his eye but trying not to let on. “So…what’re you going to do? Kill Dean and kill me now? I served my country but I sure as Hell never thought my ‘country’ would buy into this crap of…”

Giving the barrel of his Beretta a not so light tap to the man’s temple, Bryan Markus wondered how this had all gone so wrong when he figured he’d have the upper hand once ‘Agent Criss’ had been taken care of.

“Richardson, pay very close attention to me,” he began slowly, debating on killing his target’s husband on principal’s sake. “Yes, Stan Thompson pulled in a lot of favors actually to get someone from the Agency on this case and yes, my orders were to come down here and either cover or contain. Those orders now need to be…reconsidered considering who your wife nailed in this stunt.”

Don’s breath had calmed as he tried to make sense of that when something this Agent said clicked and he latched onto the ploy. “Right…Amelia grabbed a…another agent so you can’t…you wouldn’t cover for her or kill one of your own like Dean is for…”

“Good try except we both know your wife didn’t grab a Federal agent. Just like we both know his brother isn’t a Fed,” Markus snorted though he was dying to get a look at the IDs being used in this scam but he settled on business. “I have killed for less than those reasons and on orders but…this time, this time your wife’s little game isn’t going to play out well and while any other agent sent in for this might do just what I was ordered to and…that may include killing the smart mouth son of a bitch on the floor.

“You got me and by grabbing Sam Winchester that has just screwed your wife over in ways that she can’t begin to understand,” he suddenly stopped, cocking his head as if listening then blew out a self-disgusted breath. “Damn. You’ve got that .22 on you tonight, don’t you?”

Gasping as the 9mm was moved away as the Special Agent let his gaze shift slowly so he could turn his head just enough to see Dean Winchester had pulled a .22 caliber back up pistol from somewhere and was aiming it up at the man’s back, Don didn’t move but also began to catch some things that he’d missed before. Like this guy seemed a little too familiar with the hunter.

“Yep,” Dean’s head was still spinning, his ear was ringing from the Beretta going off too close to it and he was more pissed off than he had been only a few moments ago. “Backup holster in my boot which was good since the solider boy kept your attention so I could get to it.”

“I hate Caleb even more for teaching you to carry it that way,” Markus replied easily, not lowering his own weapon but he did step back from Don in order to slowly look at the elder Winchester. “Still using the rocker names on your IDs, I see. When’re you going to figure out that idea’s not going to work every time?”

“Probably when it doesn’t,” Dean shot back, defending his use of the more familiar rock names since even Sam had found it odd when they didn’t. “

Slowly motioning that he was simply lowering his Beretta while dividing his attention between Don and the hunter on the floor, Markus rolled his eyes. “It didn’t work this time, genius,” he pointed out.

“You don’t count,” Dean retorted, lowering the .22 after another moment but still glaring at the Fed. “What’s with the name change, Cabot?” he finally demanded, pushing himself to his feet while growling as his head spun a little too much for his liking. “Damn it, Bryan. I don’t have time for a concussion.”

Reaching out to steady the hunter, he pulled back when Dean tensed at the touch and knew enough to back off while ignoring the now confused Don Richardson as he reached down to pick up the files he’d dropped on the floor at his arrival.

“Mom got remarried after that werewolf tore Dad to pieces down in the Panhandle so I took his name when I enlisted in the Corps and then for the Bureau,” Agent Markus shrugged, tossing the files on the table while not mentioning the crumpled photos that had fallen out of Dean’s jacket during all of this. “Also, your head’s too damn hard to get a concussion from just one little blow. Hell, I hit you harder than that when we were seventeen and that witch’s spirit possessed your ass.”

Deciding to wait to kill him until he’d gotten his brother back, Dean leaned on the table to stop his eyes from spinning but knew the moment he closed his eyes that it was a mistake but his memories of just seeing his little brother on that screen were too raw. “You know what’s going on?” he asked tightly.

“Officially, my office got contacted by someone else in someone else’s office to try to locate one Amelia Richardson who had gone off radar and her father was concerned that something had happened to her,” Markus didn’t miss the way Dean’s face had tensed as Don went to find beers and guessed the man knew enough by this point not to ask questions. “Officially, my orders were to come down here or wherever it is I might get a lead and see how bad the situation was and contain it is possible or…cover if it came to that.

“Now, here’s what my superior told me ‘unofficially’,” the Fed flipped open a file to push it over to Dean. “Stan Thompson’s darling little girl has a record longer than what even you and Sam probably do combined but most of it was shut down due to age and her Dad’s pull when he was still in the military.”

Don had finally guessed that the two men clearly had some kind of past and the comment about a werewolf told him that he didn’t want any more details, deciding to focus on his wife and what he could do to help Dean find his brother. “What?” he stared at the juvenile file that was nearly four inches thick. “She…how long…how did you get this?”

“National security can open anything when I play the right card,” Markus replied, glaring at the smirk Dean had. “Still need Sam to hack you into places or did you learn to work a computer for more than just porn?” he knew he’d made his point and turned more serious as he moved a file aside to show what seemed to be a doctor’s report.

“She’s been in and out of shrink wards since she was ten. She began acting out in violent ways when she was six and tried to stuff her babysitter’s cat in the dryer. Then there was the time at ten that she decided to tie her cousin to a tree and cut his fingers off…she’d cut two off before the boys’ mother got her away from him,” he lifted his gaze to meet the heated green ones he knew were on him. “It gets worse but it seems like Daddy has always covered for her…until she was thirteen and used some OTC sleeping pills to drug a neighbor boy and…tied him to a pull out bed in her Dad’s barn for three days and began to learn the ways of sadism.”

“Oh, but she’s perfectly normal,” Dean shot the ex-soldier a glare while wondering how the hell this got buried all these years and why the woman hadn’t been locked up before now. “Why’s she walking around free and not in a padded cell?” he demanded sourly. “Hell, I had a damn Fed hounding my every step for less than that.”

Deciding not to get into what he could on that subject right then, Markus shook his head. “Her Dad had some good friends and he bought off a lot of people to keep it quiet. When the last hospital flat out labeled her a danger to society he signed her out AMA and dropped out of sight for about a year,” he twirled a pen on the table while considering what he’d been told. “My boss said Thompson paid people to be playthings, hoping as she got older the ‘urges’ for rape and worse would go away. I’m taking it that they didn’t go away?”

“Crap like that doesn’t ‘go away’. It gets worse,” Dean snorted, having encountered his fair share of the sexually depraved in a life of running cons in bars. “Hell, you should know that. Your mother was a shrink when I knew her.”

“I do, she still is and she would still kick your ass for using that term,” the Agent replied, debating before pushing a thinner file toward the hunter. “Her Dad promised the powers that be after an especially stubborn family lost their only son when he was just eighteen that Amelia was over it, that she was happily dating a guy and would be getting married…were you just blind or that in love?”

Aiming the question toward a clearly uncomfortable Don, the Federal agent slid some evidence photos of that last body found that could be linked to his wife’s games and kinks. “As she got older, the urges didn’t go away. She just improved her methods for gaining victims and increased the lengths she’d go to get what she wanted from them.

“The FBI profiler I talked to after getting this dropped in my lap described her as one of the most dangerous kind of sociopaths walking around loose because she can fit in with the real world, fool them into thinking she’s so innocent and play to their own weaknesses…don’t rip that file, Winchester…and then once she gets close she drops the other shoe,” he could see Dean from the corner of his eye and hadn’t missed the range of emotion flashing on a face he knew hardly ever showed his true feelings.

“Her MO has been pretty straightforward…until now,” he began grimly, not bothering to squirm under the heated gaze that shot his way while laying out the facts as he had them. “She sees someone, usually a man since most if not all of her victims have been makes between the ages of seventeen and twenty-five. Once she sees a new one, she begins contact which can be anything as simple as a greeting or faking a breakdown along the road. Then she starts to figure him out, what makes this guy tick and what she can use to make herself the perfect woman for him…at least in her mind.

“Once she gets him to a point of being comfortable around her, of trusting her, of feeling something for her that’s when she makes the next move which normally has been to drug him with GHB, get him to where she’s using as a lair for that moment and keeps him doused because she has no trouble getting off with a guy who’s a drugged and drooling mess but then she gets demanding and things turn more physical. The more the guy fights, the better she likes it because in her warped mind that gives her a right to punish him.

“The usual run for a victim is no less than forty-eight to seventy-hours because once she starts with the use of toys or weapons to start hurting the victim they don’t seem to last that long and her attention runs low once they stop being ‘fun’ to control or humiliate,” he tapped the laptop that he was pretty sure had nearly become a casualty of the infamous Dean Winchester rage. “Our tech guys found a whole list of hard-core porn sites that she’s used to run sex games or just to share her experiences.”

Stretching long arms above his head to try to relieve the building stress in his shoulders, Agent Markus heard a pop as he looked between the men. “I’ve seen a lot of sick crap in my life, before, during, and now with the Bureau but this lady is on a whole different level of freak.”

“Yeah, I figured that out when I realized she’d been drugging my little brother for a year,” Dean muttered, going between being half sick and furious as he read the files on this woman’s life; a life that his soft hearted brother hadn’t a clue existed. “Wait…Sam’s twenty-nine right now cause he’ll be thirty in May so…”

“She’s changing her MO for this one, I know,” Markus knew what Dean was thinking because he’d thought it too the moment he realized who the victim was this time. “There’s something about Sam that makes him different to her because it’s not just the age that she’s changing up but also the use of the more advanced drugs.

“With Sam, it’s like she doesn’t so much care about keeping him out while she’d doing her thing but she wants a part of him to be a willing participant, even if it’s not his mind and she’s basically mind controlling him she wants him to see and know what’s happening.”

Dean had no doubts on that score since he will never be getting rid of those images any time soon when something Don told him earlier came back. “The guy you said she nailed in Vet school, what did she do to him?” he demanded, wondering when her MO had changed or if his brother was just been chosen for some sick reason.

“We hadn’t gotten married yet but were in the talking about it stage when I noticed she was spending a lot of time away at night and…then it hit the papers about a guy I knew went to school with her disappearing,” Don shook his head, hating himself that he hadn’t seen through her lies then and that he’d bought into them again.

“I began looking through her personal files on the computer and found out she’d been researching into what Ketamine could do to a human if used in the right doses and also…rent receipts for a tiny place on the outsides of Lubbock where he lived at the time.”

Scowling as he scanned his files again, Bryan Markus made a mental note to slap the research morons who’d let that one slip by them. “That’s not in here,” he motioned to the file, wondering how many other ones weren’t in the system. “What happened?”

“It took me a day or so after he vanished to put the pieces together with stuff I’d heard whispered about by her family before going to see for myself,” he still could see it if he allowed himself to and wished he didn’t have to now. “Amelia was raised by her father mostly and had picked up a lot of stuff that surprised me when it came to locks, security and stuff but I was taught by a cousin how to pick locks and was able to bypass her locks and found her in the basement with…him.”

Both Federal Agent and hunter exchanged looks and knew this wasn’t going to be good as the ex-soldier who’d lost so much before coming home now was on the verge of losing the rest of what he’d believed was his life.

“That place didn’t have all the stuff she has in the basement but…what she did have she certainly knew how to use but even without going close to the guy I could see it was too late,” he looked up at a sharp breath and shook his head. “He wasn’t dead, though I’d wish to be if it had been me since she’d burned him so badly on his chest and testicles that it made me sick but…the drugs. She’d used too many or the wrong kinds for so long, he was gone for a week, that he just wasn’t…there anymore, y’know?”

“Ketamine’s dangerous by itself but would result in a dazed state of confusion and prolonged use would possibly result in full time brain damage,” Markus hummed low, understanding that this victim had been the woman’s first in a different level of play. “Now she’s mixing it with scopolamine and those two together… damn!”

“I threatened to leave her if she didn’t quit what she was doing. I said I’d go to the cops but…Amelia’s a master at manipulating and she knew I couldn’t resist it when she cried,” Don sighed in disgust. “Her Dad covered for her again. Paid the family or something to not press charges and since they were kind of well-known and didn’t want a scandal, agreed. The last I heard, the guy was in some mental ward since in a vegetative state and she swore that it was done once we got married but…”

Standing to go over to a picture of him and Amelia smiling at the camera, he looked back grimly. “I never quite believed it and when she began to get more…aggressive in bed or with the things she wanted to try I…took the easy way out and enlisted. I figured if she was married it would slow her down but…I just wanted out and when I got back and saw Sam…God, I am so sorry.”

Knowing that the worst thing the man could do right then was apologize to the elder Winchester when Dean was only a moment away from certain rage, Markus stood to casually keep himself between the two. “Okay, safe bet that she didn’t stop her games while you were gone but Kermit’s a small town so she might not have done it here yet. What made Sam so special that she’d change her MO so much?” he asked, speaking more to himself right then but hissed when a hand hit him in the head.

“Oh, I don’t know…how about being 6’4”, two hundred plus of solid muscle, floppy hair, huge hazel eyes and a heart that’s still too soft about some things?” Dean rolled his eyes, having seen more than one person ogling his little brother. “The geeky little kid you knew changed a lot and as the guy who spends most of the time watching his back when we go to bars I guess that type of thing appeals these days.”

“She always said Sam was perfect, that he fit every need and the mold perfectly,” Don shook his head. “I didn’t get it. I always thought she meant because he liked animals and seemed so self-sufficient but now…I think there was something else that appealed.”

Thinking back to his youth brought back an image of a thirteen year old kid just beginning to grow with soft hair usually longer than his Dad liked with huge brown eyes that seemed to be able to melt the hardest heart but especially worked well on his stubborn older brother.

Markus also remembered that Sam had been almost constantly glued to Dean and that it didn’t take much to cause that old brother side to spark red hot if Sam was in danger or even looked at wrong.

Taking into consideration the effect the passing years might’ve had on those big soulful eyes to what he’d seen in more than one file on the Winchester brothers, it didn’t take long for the Fed to figure out exactly what made Sam Winchester so appealing to Amelia Richardson.

“His innocence,” he muttered, shooting the look of shock on Dean’s face a smirk. “Get it outta the gutter. I don’t mean literally unless you locked that kid up for the last sixteen years but also unless you began showing him the seedier side of life that you and Caleb liked then Sam’s still got a type of innocence to him that would appeal to the worst side of this woman’s mind.”

Pausing while considering what he’d seen on that screen to the photos to what he’d heard come from Amelia’s own mouth as well as some odd behavior from Sam over a couple harmless, or he’d meant them as harmless, comments Dean had made, the hunter began to get the picture.

Sam had been running on fumes of grief and fear when he’d come into Texas in search of help finding Dean. Those two emotions had always made Sam seem more open, more naïve despite what he’d gone through in his life.

Hitting the dog had probably sent his brother’s already stretched emotions into overdrive and by the time he got to the clinic, he’d have been like a neon sign to this pervert.

“They’d keep Ketamine in the clinic for the animals and she probably used that until she got him here,” he could once again see the fear in his brother’s eyes and wanted him found, no matter if he did suddenly have the annoying interference of a Federal agent that used to be a hunter in training. “That live feed didn’t give me a clue and…someone remind me to shoot my phone,” he muttered. “Good news only, Garth.”

“Got none of that,” the thin hunter responded, wincing as something could be heard smashing from behind him. “That feed went back live but this time Becky can’t find a way to shut it down and…Hey! Don’t smash that! We may need it later. Sorry, Becky’s a little…pissed off at the moment.”

In all the times that Dean had run across his brother’s super fan he’d never once heard her use the type of words he could hear from the background now and the fact that she was using them worried him…a lot.

“That…bitch…she…that was a live taser baton she shove up into him!” Becky was in between furious and disgusted as she tried to grab the phone. “I can’t shut it down this time because there are too many firewalls but I did get a zip code for the ISP she’s using.”

“Somewhere in Beaumont, Texas,” Garth got his phone back. “She can’t find an exact address but Kevin’s trying to backdoor the system to get a closer idea. Dean…you need to get to him because…”

As the phone went dead, Dean didn’t think it was an accident Garth disconnected as it was plain whatever the hunter had seen this time had disturbed him and the shocked disgust from Becky, who Dean knew held some really odd thoughts, told him all he needed to know.

“She know anyone in Beaumont?” he demanded, ready to move now that he was sure that Don couldn’t give him the answers he needed to save his brother. “Friends, family or…”

“Stan lives in Beaumont,” Don looked up, an expression of pain clear. “I can’t say for sure if he’d condone this or not but he might find some way to cover for her.”

Wondering how far it was Kermit, Texas to Beaumont, Texas, Dean shrugged that away. He’d figure it out once he was moving and only let out a low snarl when the hand touched him. “If you want to keep the hand I’d move it, Agent,” he warned tightly, not needing to be delayed any more when another thought hit him. “Your bosses sent you down here as a favor to this bitch’s old man. She’s got Sammy so if you plan on following orders then you better kill me now.”

Having known from the moment he figured out who this case involved that he’d have to weigh his loyalties very carefully and he’d have to make the right choice when push came to shove. “My job was to see what was happening. Then to cover or contain as needed,” Markus shrugged. “Right now, my target still needs to be found and for that I think we’re on the same page.

“I also know Stan Thompson’s address and can at least pull off the federal thing with a bit more…finesse right now,” he put in, tightening his grip even though he knew how tightly Dean was wound right then. “Dean…you need help because busting in on this guy won’t get you Sam but it will get you arrested and who’ll help Sam if you’re locked up?”

Dean hated when logic was used to counter his plans. It was annoying when Sam did it but it was more so because he knew the other man was right but he just couldn’t get it out of his head that he was wasting more time than Sam had right then.

“I’m not playing by Fed rules, Bryan. Getting Sam back won’t allow me to and I am getting him back,” he warned slowly, needing to know they were on the same page. “This guy covered for her before. He probably still is, meaning he could know where she’s holding Sam and…”

Flashes of blood, of hands touching his brother, muffled screams came back and a burst of white hot fury passed over him as another feeling slowly came back; the feeling of eerie calm he’d felt in Hell before taking a knife to another soul.

“Sammy’s not the only one who’s changed. I’ve changed too and not in good ways. I will skin the bastard if he knows where this bitch is or where Sam is and I’ll shoot anyone who gets in my way of finding my brother,” he shoved out the door without another thought.

“Including me,” Markus sighed, not doubting the truth before that unspoken threat because he had seen Dean kill for Sam and suspected from what little he’d seen in files over the years that his friend had probably done it again or worse in order to keep the younger Winchester safe. “This should be fun,” he decided, grabbing his files while eyeing Don and making a decision. “You’re with me until I see how far this has spread.”

Not wanting to risk the man calling ahead out of some warped sense of loyalty, the Federal agent waited until Don Richardson had grabbed a jacket and had to admit he was shocked to see the 1967 Chevy Impala still parked where it had been. “I figured you’d be halfway there.”

Dean had figured that to especially when his every nerve was screaming to move, to go to Beaumont and pound on doors until he found some clue. That was what his heart was shouting as it relieved everything he’d seen tonight.

The hunter in him on the other hand was reminding him that Bryan Markus’s words were right. He couldn’t help Sam if he was in jail or dead and the other man did have something Dean needed without wasting time on Garth to find out…

“I need an address and…your promise that you won’t stop me from doing what I need to do to get Sammy back,” he hated needing anyone’s help, especially a Fed but Dean had to hope that the part of Bryan Markus that had once been his friend was still there and that he still knew how Dean would react to a threat to his brother. “Bryan…this is Sammy and I’ve let a lot of bullshit come between us but…I can’t leave him or let him think that…”

Hearing the break in the hunter’s normally steady husky voice told Markus how much strain Dean was under to cause it and he sighed. “I can’t have a mass murder hit the evening news, Dean,” he complained, handing over the file with an address in Beaumont. “I’ll cover your back for as long as I can but…there are limits to what I can or will ignore.

“I’m sorry but…I’m not a hunter and my job has rules,” he hated them most times, like now when to do his job he may have to let a sexual deviant go free and risk the life of an innocent man that he’d always known should not have been in this life. “Sam…Sam is…”

A hand was quickly around his throat when Dean moved with a lot more quickness that he’d remembered from their youth but he made no move to fight back…mainly because he knew that would just get him killed faster than this job might yet.

“Do not say that Sam…that my little brother is not important because I happen to think he’s a lot more important than some twisted sex fiend that needed to be taken out years ago,” he gritted, eyes like lethal green lasers boring into the other man’s. “You do your ‘job’ but stay the hell away from me doing mine because old time’s sake won’t mean much if I have to choose between saving Sam and icing you.”

The Impala roared off as if not caring if the black sedan that belonged to the agent from Homeland Security followed or not.

“Will you…will you try to stop him from saving his brother?” Don wasn’t sure what to make of this Fed but he knew whose side he was firmly on by this point and would do what he needed to in order to make sure Sam Winchester came out of this alive, if not whole.

Letting every curse and swear word he knew roll off his tongue as he had to push the speed up on his Bureau issued sedan just to catch up enough to see the Impala’s taillights, Bryan Markus finally looked next to him as if the man sitting there was insane.

“Stop him?” he blinked then laughed, not really as amused as it might have seemed to a complete stranger whose only dealings with the elder Winchester had been just this night. “Richardson, there have been maybe four people that I know of who could stop Dean when he’d this pissed off. Three of them are dead and the fourth…well, your wife better pray that I can get a handle on Dean before she hurts that kid too badly because only Sam can fully deal with him in this mood.”

Tires speeding down the blacktop toward another Texas town, Dean struggled to keep control of both the car and his own darkening thoughts but it was nearly impossible when every time his eyes moved to the empty seat beside him the near suffocating fear of losing his brother hit him.

Furious at himself for not seeing all the tell-tale signs in Sam that had been there and he’d missed each and every one. The signs of abuse so bad that his brother didn’t even seem to know the extent of them…signs that he’d seen in Sam a few times in their lives and they were the ones that he’d sworn never to allow to happen to Sam again.

Dean was mad that he’d allowed so much bitterness to fester that another sick freak to was able to use Sam’s emotions against him.

Wishing, not for the first time in recent months, that either their Dad or Bobby was still around to maybe offer advice or a good ass kicking when he needed it, Dean swiped a hand over his burning eyes while a quick look into his rearview mirror showed the sedan keeping up with him.

The Fed’s involvement also changed things since Dean couldn’t be sure which side of the fence his former friend would be on when it came to getting Sam out of this alive and he’d lost so many friends before that he hated to think of having to shoot this one…especially when he knew at one time Bryan Cabot…now Markus had been as good as he was in fighting.

The only huge difference between them then and now was that where Bryan hunted or fought because he’d been told to, Dean lived, breathed, hunted and fought with one main goal always in his mind: protect Sammy.

Sam had been his world for close to thirty years and once again it took the threat of losing him to take away all the doubts in Dean’s mind and no Federal agent, friend or not, would keep him from saving his brother and ripping the lungs out of the bastards who’d touched him.

“I’m coming, little brother,” he whispered, hissing a curse out as his phone suddenly blared. “What?” he snapped, not looking at the ID since he’d assumed it be Garth again.

“Dean.”

Kevin Tran’s voice was not who the hunter had been expecting, especially when the would-be Prophet was supposed to be working on translating their half of the demon tablet.

“What’s up?” he made himself settle his voice since it wasn’t the kid’s fault that Dean had screwed up big time and let Sam get kidnapped by some sex/BDSM addicted freak.

“I took a break from the tablet to do some hacking since Garth said he and…Becky weren’t having much luck,” Kevin wondered how either hunter would react to the fact that the half of tablet now rested in the screen of the laptop he’d been using. “So anyway, aside from shutting that feed down again and introducing a virus into the system that will nail anyone trying to get it back up, I also located some other…stuff and…you and Sam’re the only ones with those tattoos, right?”

The uneasy question made Dean pause but it also caused his foot to press harder into the gas pedal. “More than likely, though I’m sure other hunters may have them in different places. Why?” he asked warily.

“Sam’s also got a mark…on his back, doesn’t he?” Kevin held his breath because he could hear the way the older man’s teeth were clenching. “On his neck and then on his thigh?”

Both were older, Angel and vicious hunter attacks but Dean knew of the exact marks Kevin was talking about but he couldn’t be sure of from what he’d seen if those marks had been visible…though he was certain he’d missed a great deal of Amelia’s video work.

“Not on the feed. There are photos of…Sam on another website with her username but…I didn’t need to see his face to…” Kevin winced and was glad he wouldn’t be getting the brunt of the hunter’s rage. “The date stamp puts it in the timeline of when you were…gone.”

“You telling me that bitch, when she drugged Sam before, took photos and…” Dean was now positive that he’d rip her apart with his bare hands but fought to calm down. “Tear them down, Kevin,” he ordered lowly, refusing to have anything up anywhere that could one day hurt Sam if he got him out of this. “I don’t care what you have to do or what it takes but…”

Pleased that he’d already done his part to make certain those pictures wouldn’t be seen anytime soon, Kevin tapped a finger. “I did and I also tipped a few Federal databases that some porn sites were breaking more than a few laws so that should take care of them but…my main reason for calling was something I saw on a chat room.”

“This is turning worse than finding out people write stories about me and Sam…and some of them literally scare the hell outta me, dude,” Dean didn’t need to think there were chat rooms out there where people with kinks like Amelia made small talk…especially if some of that talk involved his brother. “Just drop it on me, Kevin. I’m driving so don’t give me a stroke so nutshell it for me.”

Taking a moment to find some way to do just that, Kevin ran through it again in his head before taking a deep breath. “Couple people were talking and I guess they know the lady because they said she plans to…sell him when she’s done cause she said he’s fighting so much even with the drugs sometimes that a good dose will burn his mind and just make him good for…sex.

“Dean? Hey, you still there or…yep, guess you are,” Kevin figured by the array of curses being hurled at and about Amelia Richardson that the woman didn’t stand a chance of living out the week. “How far away are you?”

A look told Dean that he was at least three hours away from Beaumont at his current speed, which once he pushed the Impala to her max would cut it down and he just had to pray Sam could hold on that long and Stan Thompson had a brain in his head.

“I’m getting him back,” he said it more to himself than to Kevin as he hung up, digging into his pocket for the amulet to recall the night his little brother had given it to him. “Hang on for me, Sam. I’m getting you out of this or Bobby will be kicking my ass.”

The drive to Beaumont took what seemed like forever to Dean. Then he was forced to admit defeat and allow the sedan to take the lead while driving to an isolated ranch outside of the town where Stan Thompson now lived.

“Yeah, this doesn’t spell all kinds of weird, does it?” he muttered, stepping out of the Impala and not bothering to switch jackets since he didn’t care if he looked like a Fed or not right then. “A single guy living out on a ranch with barely any animals and no one around for miles to notice anything was going on?  Nope, that’s perfectly normal.”

“According to the boss it was a new move, just in the last three months,” Bryan Markus replied, having taken off his official dark jacket during the drive and not putting it back on in favor of just allowing his sidearm to be seen in its holster. “Ranch had a number of outbuildings…including a ranch manager’s house a few miles out, buried in the woods.”

Running his tongue over his teeth at that revelation, Dean’s basic urge was to move. “That still mean we need to talk to this asshole?” he hated talking in the best of times and this was not one of those. “You could do good cop and I’ll just go…she’s got my brother, Bry,” he stressed as the look of weary resignation.

“I know that and I want Sam away from her as much as you do but you do not want this jerkoff to call the local cops on us at the first gunshot and we both know there will be shots fired here,” Markus now understood why John Winchester had always been so testy and wondered how the man had kept himself sane while dealing with his oldest son.

“We go in, see what he knows…maybe put a bullet in his kneecap and then you can go gank whoever you want up to a point,” he finished, trying not to notice how easy it was to slip back into his old speech habits or the burst of relief in Dean’s eyes that he wasn’t stopping him yet. “Just don’t kill him until I try to talk to him?”

“Dude, I’m a professional,” Dean sounded offended and chose to ignore the reply he got in return while eyeing Don. “You want to see him or stay in the car?”

Hating to admit that his father-in-law had never been his favorite person to see to begin with, the ex-soldier shook his head. “He needs to face that covering for her, helping her hurt people…it has to stop. He doesn’t like me anyway so…I may as well see this through.”

Hoping he didn’t have two loose cannons on his hands, the Agent stepped onto the porch when his ears picked up on something one didn’t forget and rolled his eyes. “Mr. Thompson, I’m Special Agent Markus from Homeland Security,” he called out while seeing that Dean had also heard the sound of a rifle being cocked. “You called in some favors to get help for your daughter and…Mr. Thompson, put the gun down because if you shoot at me I can promise it will be a mistake.”

“That how ‘official’ Feds talk these days?” Dean smirked; hand on his .45 in case it was needed and because he really did want to pull it on the man.

“No but it seems being around you is a bad influence on me…again,” Markus shot back, hearing the door being unlocked and stepped out of the way in case the man decided to do something foolish. “I really should ask to see the permit for that thing.”

Stan Thompson hadn’t been sure if his remaining friends in Washington would send anyone this time since it was plain they’d been keeping tabs on Amelia’s activities as well and this latest one hadn’t gone unnoticed.

He had hoped as his daughter got older, when she’d married that she’d stop with the things she seemed obsessed with doing but he’d somehow known after visiting her in Texas, after seeing the young man she’d moved in with that…that she’d found her next plaything.

When she’d called him last week crying, begging him to help her it had torn his heart to consider not helping her since he realized Amelia had gotten used to him cleaning up her messes but this one, this one was the worst one yet.

Usually Amelia only called on him to help her after she’d had her fun and needed a way to cover it up and while it wasn’t the first time that she’d wanted to bring her fun home with her it was the first time that she’d done it with other people involved and that was what truly alarmed the older man.

Amelia’s tastes, her desires had grown darker as she’d grown but this was the first time that Stan had ever walked in on one of her games and he knew that he would never forget the horror, the gut wrenching shock he’d felt at seeing his daughter and another man abusing a boy that Stan could tell had been drugged by something.

“She’s…she’s my little girl,” he stated as he stepped onto the porch and looked past the agent to see his son-in-law. “You…you…she loved you. Why wasn’t that enough?”

“Mel loved me to make herself seem normal but I wouldn’t play the games she wanted and I couldn’t take her demands so I left for the Army,” Don Richardson seemed sad but he also wasn’t going to be used as an excuse either. “She never stopped doing this. Oh, she might’ve found other ways to get her kicks without hurting people but…she’s gone too far now. You met Sam, you knew she’d fixated on him and you know he didn’t deserve this.”

“She…Amelia said he’s the last. She promised that he…Sam isn’t like the others that she wants to keep him and…” he sensed the move only a second before Dean had him against the door with his .45 in his face. “Who the hell?”

“My brother is not some damn pet to keep on a chain!” he hissed, fury glittering on his face and only a hand on his arm kept him from pounding the older man into a bloody pulp for suggesting otherwise. “Your daughter’s a sick bitch that you’d covered for long enough but this time she didn’t grab some poor kid whose parents you can buy off. This time she grabbed my little brother and as the Fed behind me can tell you…touching Sam in any way is not a good thing!”

Agent Markus didn’t seem distressed by Dean’s move, in fact he seemed more amused while also a little surprised that the hunter wasn’t being more violent yet. “Stan Thompson meet Dean Winchester. Sam’s big brother and someone you really don’t want to make mad.”

“Wha…” Stan looked from the agent to the man that had him pinned. “Amelia…even Sam said his brother was…I thought Sam’s brother was dead,” he suddenly felt sick. “She told me this time that Sam had a breakdown finally. That his grief over his brother mad him believe his brother was alive and that’s why she kept him drugged so much. That he…”

“Oh, shit,” Markus knew that would push Dean’s last button and had reached out to latch on to the arm that was just moving to smash the man’s face in. “Dean…”

Already furious with what was happening, terror building the longer he didn’t find Sam, this new revelation finished it for him and he easily shrugged off the restraining hand.

“Sam thought I was dead. Sammy was weak from not sleeping as he tried to find me when that bitch first drugged him last year!” he snapped, refusing those memories since it was too easy to see it now how his brother had fallen into the woman’s trap. “She drugged him, kept him chained in a basement until he was under her control and then when I did come back, she decided it wasn’t good enough.

“Your daughter showed up at where we were staying, drugged Sam, had a few buddies beat him up, forced him to write a note to me that would make me think he’d left and hoped I’d buy it! My brother didn’t have a breakdown, Thompson. He was kidnapped by your daughter and she’d bragging in a couple chat rooms about selling him when she’d bored with him,” Dean’s voice dropped to the tone that was used only when he was about to pull the trigger on someone he’d decided had gone too far.

“I want my brother. I’ve seen what she’d done to him since she likes an audience and sent it live onto the internet but I’ll be damned if Sam’ll suffer anymore,” the .45 cocked menacingly close to the man’s ear. “You know she has him! You’re covering for her and letting my brother be hurt by her and those sick perverts! Not happening. Where are they?”

Deciding that he needed to actually do his job, Markus stepped up to finally pull Dean off while keeping himself between them but he’d pulled his Beretta as well. “Covering for her isn’t going to work anymore, Mr. Thompson and I think you know that,” he began slowly, feeling the heat from Dean’s eyes as they glared though he was more interested in what he was noticing in Amelia’s father. “I think you also know she’s not going to stop and that she went too far over the edge. She’s gone into areas that there is no way back from and has been into the sociopathic serial range for a long time.”

“She my daughter!” Thompson yelled, feeling sick and furious at the same time. “You have no idea, none of you, what’s it’s like to raise a child on your own! To know she’s…different and not know how to help her! She’s all I have and…”

“Sam was six months old when our mother was killed in front of him,” Dean broke that rant off in a tone that seemed off even to him. “I was four years old when my little brother was put in my arms and told to run out of our burning house. Our Dad kind of went extreme in finding out what killed her so…I basically raised Sammy.”

He suddenly chuckled even though he felt like raging against the world. “I don’t know what it’s like to raise a child? It’s been mainly Sam and me for as long as I can remember. I taught him to walk, to talk and nearly everything else a kid needs to know…I taught him. I’ve protected the kid for as long as I can remember and even when I found out how…different he might well become I never stopped loving him or protecting him. Even if he thought otherwise,” he offered a smirk of disgust to Thompson. “You want to protect your daughter? Well, I damn well intend to protect my brother from her.”

“You’re supposed to help me. You were sent to help Amelia!” the man shot Markus a look of desperation as it begun to sink in just how deep his girl had gotten this time. He glared at the blond Federal agent. “You were sent to protect her! He wants to hurt her so…kill him!”

As Dean’s eyebrows raised and Don moved a hand toward the handgun he’d brought with him, Bryan Markus’s face stayed calm in the result of that declaration. “That’s what normally happens when you call in help, isn’t it?” he replayed his orders in his head and then what his boss said as he was leaving.

“‘ _Officially you’re supposed to control, contain or cover for this woman, Bryan. Her father’s called in favors a lot of time to keep his little girl from going to jail or a mental ward for some of the stuff she’s done and I guess he feels that she’s really got herself in the deep side of shit this time. Those are what the official orders are to keep the local state rep happy. My orders to you from the men upstairs are to go see what the hell she’s done and use your own judgment on how to handle it best to make sure this never happens again._ ’”

“Cover, contain, hide, threaten, bribe, whatever else needs to be done,” he saw the nod and also caught the way Dean’s pistol was moving. “This time things are a little different since I was told to use my own discretion as to how I handle this matter,” he looked out toward the dark woods before finally meeting Thompson’s eyes as he let a little of the trained Fed in him slip aside to replaced by something he hadn’t been in years.

“Even under normal circumstances I wouldn’t help you cover for her because I have this little issue with sex fiends that drug and torture people,” he admitted grimly, stepping closer with a change in his eyes that left no doubt that he was not a friend or ally that Stan Thompson could get to do what he wanted. “This time, however, is different because I sure as hell am not going to cover or help her drug, torture, and rape a boy that I actually know.”

Thompson felt his stomach drop as the Beretta touched his chest. “No…they said you’d…he’s nothing. He’s just another punk. He likes what’s being done. It’s the way they play it but…”

A hard fist landed in his stomach and a fist to the face drew blood as his nose broke. “Wrong thing to say,” Markus stepped back as Dean’s fist landed again. “You’re as deluded as she is to think any of those people wanted done to them what she did and unless you want to join your daughter in a cell…or a grave depending on if I choose to stop Dean, I suggest you tell me where she is and where she’s got Sam,” he advised.

“Stan…tell them,” Don urged, understanding the loyalty but knowing there was a line. “This isn’t right. You know and I know she needs help. Dean’s not the kind you can buy off if Sam’s hurt too badly. She’s crossed the line this time. Stan! She’s letting other people hurt him and…”

“I know!” Thompson yelled back, holding his bleeding nose while slumping to the porch. “I…when she called this time…I thought if she was close I could maybe control it or stop her if she went too far but…this is the first time I’ve seen her use other people and…” he looked up into Dean’s hard stare. “He said your Dad was in the Marines?”

Taken a little off guard both by the question and by the fact that Sam had actually mentioned their Dad to a stranger, Dean slowly nodded. “Yeah, he was,” he replied, on guard. “Dad and Sam were more alike than either thought but he changed a lot after our Mom died.”

“Will…will you kill her?” Thompson asked, looking at Dean rather than the Federal agent since he wasn’t stupid enough not to realize who was really in charge of his daughter’s fate.

“More than likely,” Dean saw no reason to lie to the man because after what he’d seen her do to his brother and expecting to find worse when he got to them he knew his temper would be running his emotions. “She hurt Sammy in ways that I swore no one would again and I’ve done worse than kill to protect that kid. I won’t lie to you and say otherwise…unless the geek in the suit gets in my face,” he offered, sliding a look to the Fed who offered a unique hand gesture in return.

Stan Thompson knew that no matter what he chose he would never have his daughter back. Either a cell or a hospital would be her fate or worse as a look into those hard green eyes staring him down told a clear story that Dean’s only concern was saving his brother even if the older man had doubts if that was possible now.

“I let her use the manager’s place down in the woods,” he finally sighed, accepting that he’d done all he could to protect Amelia but he’d finally hit the point where nothing could save her. “I…I don’t know how many people are with her or…I don’t know what shape the boy’s in but…please, Agent…if possible don’t let her die.”

Markus knew the odds of him pulling that off were next to impossible since Dean was off the porch the second the location was known. “Except for shooting him, I have little hope of controlling him,” he replied, pulling his handcuffs out. “I guess I don’t have to say this is the best thing for everyone right now?”

“I’ll stay here,” Don offered, figuring the Fed didn’t want to take the chance of Thompson either calling the cops or getting involved more. “Just…help him find Sam?”

“That’s the plan,” Markus didn’t like leaving either man but he also knew Dean needed backup, especially since he’d seen the hunter run on pure emotion before and it was never good. “Dean! Damn it, wait up!”

A piece of Dean felt sorry for the older man but it never failed to amaze him that while nothing demons did surprised him it was the human side that was constantly shocking him.

Stopping by the Impala to grab some stuff he figured he’d need in one way or another, he’d been halfway down the path when he heard the footsteps behind him. “You suck at stealth.”

“You suck at listening too,” Markus shot back, having grabbed his backup weapon as well as a semi-automatic machine pistol just to be on the safe side. “You tear into this place and odds are good they’ll kill him.”

“They aren’t demons or professionals, Bryan. They’re nothing but sex addicted sick perverts who get off on hurting people any way possible,” Dean countered, having already plotted this as far in advance as he could. “Besides, the bitch is over confident since she knows Daddy’s protecting her. Odds are good that we can get in without even picking the lock and get close before anyone even knows that time is up.”

Bryan Markus hated when Dean was right but a quick look around the perimeter, which was Dean’s only compromise, told him that there were no guards, no security or anything around the one story ranch style little house. “I hate you,” he muttered sourly, though he felt relief when Dean didn’t kick in the front door.

Dean stopped as soon as he stepped in because the whole place just gave him a bad feeling. He’d been taught to listen to those gut feelings but right then all he could think about was finding Sam. All he wanted was to get his brother the hell away from this place and burn it to the ground with the freaks inside it.

Having seen only one car other than Amelia’s outside gave the opinion that perhaps not all the people were still here but even one extra person was too much of a risk to Sam as Dean let his eyes roam. “Basement?”

“Probably,” Markus agreed but didn’t like the thought of going into a basement without knowing what they were facing.

He was about to suggest a brief recon when that idea and all others were taken away by a sound coming from below. A sound he knew even before he saw the way his friend’s face paled then went blank that meant any chance of stealth or slowness was over. “Dean, don’t…son of a bitch!” he hissed, bolting after the hunter and knowing that whoever was foolish enough to get in the elder Winchester’s face now would be dead a second later.

He just hoped it wasn’t him.

The sound muffled by both hard wood floors and a sturdy locked door couldn’t quite hide the agony and panic in Sam Winchester’s ragged voice as his body shook from shock, pain, and drugs.

Sam’s memories were hit and miss since the constantly administered drugs kept him dopey and unable to fight back even though his head knew he needed to.

Though after nearly fifty some hours of continuous drugs, abuse, pain and sex without any food or water he was too weak to do much and that seemed to be when things picked up.

“That’s it, Sam. Scream for me,” Amelia’s face was alight with pleasure as she ran the vibrator down Sam’s heaving chest again before pressing it down over one of his bleeding nipples. “Show me how much you want me, baby.”

Since losing the live feed, she’d figure out what happened to that when she let Bruce have another turn with Sam, she’s been playing little games with him.

Cutting back on the constant drugs, she’d only been giving Sam enough of the combined mixture of Ketamine and Scopolamine to keep him pliable to orders but not so drugged out that he wasn’t straining since both she and one of the few people who’d remained liked to see him fight.

She’d loved it and had gotten off quite well after Bruce, a muscular red haired man she’d met in a bar, had tied Sam’s ankles up to the hooks beside his chained wrists which was an amazing thing to watch before using both a vibrating dildo and his own massive cock to amuse himself.

Amelia had always wondered about sharing one of her toys and with Sam it seemed perfect since she knew his brother wouldn’t be looking for him and so many people had expressed interest in his strong body that she decided to experiment this time.

Keeping Sam drugged allowed her control to get him to participate in some of the games but she had to admit it was amusing to see the way his muscles strained or how he’d try to beg when she gagged him…though she’d taken the gag out for the moment as she laid beside him.

Sam was tied back to the bed poles for the moment though she’d left that one interesting little vibrator stuck in his ass to assure even more pain and enjoyment as she pressed down on him or Bruce played.

Watching Sam’s glassy eyes try to stay open reminded her that she’d pushed him far harder than she’d done any of the others she’d had other the years but he’d been the best, especially since she was using so much more on him.

“Sammy,” she cooed while moving to lay over him, kissing his face until she found his mouth which was dry and cracked from the last ballgag they’d used on him though as she ran her tongue over his lips she still tasted Bruce which reminded her of how much Sam had tried to fight that time but was forced to do what he was ordered to. “Kiss me and maybe I’ll take this nasty ring off.”

Amelia slid a hand in between them to lightly touch the cockring she’d put on Sam hours ago and knew it was dangerous to prevent him from coming for this long but just loved the sounds he made as she brushed it with her nails.

Feeling him respond to the drug as his mouth opened under hers, she drove her tongue in to viciously run it along his mouth while hearing him moan against her, his body straining up as if to buck her off. “No, no,” she whispered, biting his neck since she’d learned early on he enjoyed that or did so under the drugs. “Stay still or the next time Bruce has you I’ll let him use those other toys he brought.”

Sam’s mind was dull. A part of it knew this was wrong and that it had always been wrong but the side that the drugs controlled just wanted to do what Amelia wanted to make her happy but the pain was too bad now and Sam tried to fight it.

When he was able to push past the pain he thought of his brother and cringed. Dean thought he’d left and he could remember writing that letter to his brother. If Dean believed that letter then he’d never even bother to look for him and…thinking that he’d never get free of this or never see Dean again, let him know he hadn’t meant what that letter said terrified him nearly as much as thoughts of Amelia letting that guy near him again.

“…stop,” he managed to whisper, surprised that he was able to vocalize it since he hadn’t been able to talk unless ordered to in so long. “Amelia…stop. Don’ do…God!” he struggled to lift his hips up to stop the burst of pleasure and pain as she shoved him down until that damn vibrating plug in his ass made him shake. “Please…let…”

Kissing him again to cut off the pleads, she groped until she could find the needle to give a new dose with but only offered half since she wanted him alert for what was to come. “Stop fighting, Sam,” she ordered, sitting up to straddle him while lifting his throbbing cock in her hand to place it where she wanted it and seeing the way his already blown pupils went glassier. “I’ll make you happy and then while I get the camera set again up you’ll play with Bruce.”

Sam strained his arms despite the burning in his blood to give in, he wanted free. He once again thought of Dean and wished his brother knew he was in trouble but knew that Amelia had fixed that and he’d be trapped here or wherever until he either died or gave in.

His heart was pounding fast as it did whenever she injected him and Sam wondered if maybe he’d just die of a heart attack and be free of the pain, the humiliation and the shame of Dean’s reaction if he ever learned what he’d done or what had been done to him.

Trying to let his mind slip away, to any place in his subconscious where he wouldn’t have to feel or watch as the woman he thought, had been made to think, he loved more than he’d wanted to look for Dean last year, slowly lowered herself down onto him and began to move, the pain in his already agonized cock making him try to scream but only a low moan came out.

“He likes that,” Bruce laughed as he came to stand beside the bed to watch, getting hard already as he watched the tears stream down the boy’s pale face as Amelia rocked herself on him while handing him the electric roller to run down their toy’s body. “You gonna take that ring off before you ruin him?”

Gasping as Sam’s body responded to the drugs and her urges, Amelia threw her head back as she worked to get herself to her peak while watching as Sam tried to move, to get relief either from the but plug that Bruce had turned on a much higher speed and was growing to make sure it hit the powerless hunter’s prostate each time she came down hard on him or to make the pain in his cock go away but the ring at its base made it impossible.

“Does my Sammy want to come?” she leaned down to lick his neck and hearing him cry out despite her orders not to. “I’ll let you…if you do something for me first.”

Shutting his eyes against the burning tears of shame and pain, Sam could feel the needle again and knew this would be another of her games that involved him being an active part of his own rape because the drugs weren’t strong enough now to make him believe this was anything but.

While his mind knew that, his body was fighting its own battle and he instinctively tried to jerk away when the larger hand reached down between this spread and tied legs to grab the end of the plug and start jerking it out before slamming it back up with a laugh at the scream that came.

“You jerk again and when I take that out, I’ll ram something else up inside that tight ass, boy,” Bruce hissed, seeing Amelia nod and knew he was about to get his turn as he moved his hand up to try to find the release of the cockring while brushing a finger up against Sam as it came loose just as he hit the remote for the plug again and listened to the scream echo in the room of horrors.

“Good, good boy,” Amelia shouted, digging her nails into Sam’s tight shoulders as she moved up and down to find her own release before digging a nail down when she realized that despite the pain he was in from having worn that restraint for so long Sam still was holding back. “Sam, you want to come. Do it before I out that ring back on and use that double dildo that you love so much.”

Sam’s mind was about gone. The last drug had blurred his thoughts to the point where he was hearing things that he could only dream of now but he had no control of his body as either Amelia or the sadist she brought in to play with whispered in his ear and he screamed silently as he felt the release come.

Pressing down against the boy to hold his hips to the bed, making the pain in his ass all that more intense, she gasped as she felt Sam’s body instinctively climax from just the relief of not having the ring cutting off the circulation to his straining shaft and the feel of her on him.

“Yes! Yes, just like before, Sammy. Give it all to me and I’ll reward you,” Amelia smiled tightly as her eyes gleamed, feeling his attempts to thrust his hips up despite the way he was tied and picking up the small knife she used to cut little lines on his raw, bleeding chest. “Tell me what you want, Sammy,” she leaned to kiss his face but scowled as he tried to pull his head away. “That was bad, my Sammy.”

Taking a handful of long, grimy hair, she jerked Sam’s head back until she could kiss him again then pulled the long belt like restraint over to force his head to stay straight. “No moving that mouth, baby,” she stayed on him while deciding if she wanted to force him again or let Bruce have a turn while making his eyes open. “Look at me, Sam. Tell me what you want.”

Sam wanted to die if he could say that. He didn’t want to remember the last fifty some hours or the fact that his brother was probably long gone and not worrying about him and since Dean thought that Sam had willingly not looked for him then he couldn’t blame his brother for believing this lie.

Wishing he could turn his head away from the madness shining from brown eyes he thought he’d believed in, Sam made his own blurry eyes shift to look anywhere but at either of his captors when he blinked.

Tears and drugs made his vision iffy at best, along with the beating his head had taken after an especially brutal round but Sam felt his heart clench as he thought he saw something just beyond Amelia. “…De’n.”

“Oh, no, my Sammy,” Amelia smiled smugly, running the knife tip down his chest with just enough pressure to draw blood again. “Your big brother is gone. You told him how you felt about him and he won’t come looking for you. Your brother hates you and he would if he knew what you’ve been doing with me and my friends,” she frowned a little when she noticed that Sam’s slim attention span wasn’t on her right then but he seemed to be staring at something else.

“Look at me, Sam!” she snapped, slapping his face while drawing blood with her nails. “You’re mine! You will belong to me forever or until I’m bored of you but your brother, your precious big brother that you so wanted to find before I took you, will never want to find you or be with you again.”

“Wanna bet, bitch?”

 

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone still here? Sorry this one took longer. I got delayed due to heat and no A/C but that’s fixed and hopefully CH 5 will be up sooner to see what happens with Amelia. Will Dean kill her or will Agent Markus do the legal thing? How will Dean get Sam through this now if the drugs have hurt him more than what he’s been enduring?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There is one for language and also for some mild descriptive scenes.

**Chapter Five**

“Wanna bet, bitch?”

The sudden gruff voice that spoke from the rear of the room took both Amelia Richardson and her new sadist friend off guard since neither expected anyone to come in the basement room’s only door.

“Who?” whirling from where she sat still straddling Sam’s hips, her wide with lust brown eyes went larger with shock then hate. “Get out!” she screamed, not putting two and two together as her hand went flat on Sam’s heaving chest. “Bruce!”

The big red head had been taken off guard by Dean’s appearance but he wasn’t about to let anybody sneak in and swipe what he planned to have before too much longer. “Should’ve minded your own business, asshole,” he sneered, lunging toward Dean as it in a tackle when he didn’t bother to take notice of the .45 that was already moving.

“He is my business,” Dean returned tightly, firing once and not bothering to see where the round hit the bastard that had been in one hurting his brother as his attention was instantly back on the naked and shaking woman that still hadn’t moved. “Get the hell off of him.”

The rage and fury that Dean had been feeling since he first realized what had happened was fighting to explode and only the fact that the psycho bitch had a knife in her hand kept him from moving faster toward the massive bed.

“He’s mine,” she smiled, a little too brightly for the sane while running a finger down Sam’s chest and missing the way the muscle in Dean’s cheek twitched when Sam trembled. “I’m not sharing him with anyone but Bruce now. You need to leave so I can have my Sammy all to my…” those possessive words cut off with a shrill scream as the .45 fired to leave her falling off of Sam to clutch her now bleeding shoulder.

“He’s not your anything, bitch,” Dean snarled that, keeping his eyes and his weapon locked on the bleeding woman who didn’t seem to care that she was naked as she kept screaming not to go near the bed and for her ally to get up. “I think this asshole’s  a bit too busy right now to care.”

A look had told Dean that his first bullet had hit the redheaded brawler in a very sensitive spot, which Dean wasn’t sure he could do again if he’d been aiming. “Sammy?” he called quietly as the sound of running footsteps reminded him that he hadn’t come in here alone. “You still suck at being backup, Cabot.”

“It’s Markus now and if you’d wait for me rather than running off on your own then maybe I could back you…oh shit,” Federal Agent Bryan Markus had stepped into the room with his 9mm pulled and already debating on who to aim it at when he caught sight of the naked man restrained on the bed and blew out a breath. “Dean…”

“Watch them!” Dean snapped, shoving the .45 away as he took a final look around to make sure those two were the only ones left before making it to the bed in two steps. “Sam? Sammy?” he called, fighting to keep his voice level as he heard the Fed using the normal routine about rights but kept focused on his brother and not sure where the hell to even start. “Kill them both.”

A single look at Sam’s chained, bloody, bruised body made that suggestion very plausible in his mind as he used one of his other sets of cuffs to handcuff the bleeding man who was shouting. “Damn, you shot this guy in his balls, Winchester,” he couldn’t quite keep the marvel out of his tone after punching the sadist in the face to at least shut him up.

“Imagine where I could’ve shot him if I’d been aiming,” Dean returned, ignoring the obscenities being screamed his way from Amelia as he reached for his knife while trying to ignore the many wounds he could see on his little brother and thinking of the ones he couldn’t while laying a hand on the side of Sam’s face after give the strap over his throat a vicious pull to at least get rid of that one. “Sammy? C’mon, baby brother…open your eyes.”

“No! Don’t you touch him!” Amelia screamed, ignoring her bleeding shoulder to try to lunge at the hunter only to have her path blocked by the very sturdy and tall frame of a pissed off Federal agent. “He’s mine! Sam belongs to me and my Dad’ll make you pay!” she sneered, gasping as a robe was thrown at her. “He’s calling his friends in from the…”

“I’m from the government, lady and I wouldn’t be looking for any help from that direction since it’s really doubtful if you’ll make it out of this room alive and your Dad will probably be lucky to walk away with a prison sentence if I push what I know into a court,” Markus snapped, seeing the way Dean’s hands shook as they cut the heavy ropes and leather straps on Sam’s wrists and hearing the soft groan from the younger man.

Amelia looked up at the Fed, the hate in her eyes still burning as she kept glancing at the bed and shifting as if she was going to jump at Dean, not caring about the gun aimed at her. “My Dad called you. You’re supposed to protect me. I won’t let anyone take Sam away from me again. I have special plans for him so let us go and kill his bastard brother and you can have a turn…agh!”

He’d faced down plenty of disgusting people in his life but this woman made his skin crawl. Using the butt of his Beretta to slash it down, he hit the woman on the side of the face with it before dragging her across the room so he could hook her hands to a bar made into the wall.

“Shut up,” he warned tightly, wanting away from her and this place as soon as possible but a single look told him that wasn’t going to be too easy to accomplish. “Dean?”

Sam’s eyes had clamped shut and refused to open. The drugs were burning through his body and making it hard to focus again but he also figured they were making him hallucinate now.

He’d heard a voice that he hadn’t allowed himself to believe he’d ever hear again then two gunshots that would’ve made him jump if he could’ve moved but Sam still refused to open his eyes.

Gasping as he tried to control his heaving chest and rapidly beating heart, Sam could still hear Amelia’s voice screaming at someone but she seemed farther away and slowly he became aware of another body next to him on the bed and he began straining again.

“No…no!” fighting the drugs that wanted to choke his words off, Sam jerked his head once he realized it was free to try to bury it in his shoulder when he felt the first strap on his right wrist loosen. “Please…stop…let me…” the words were mumbled through a hoarse voice when a familiar touch cupped the side of his face.

“Sammy.”

She’d been calling him that and he hated it. He’d always hated that nickname except and had only begun to let his brother use it. Hearing it from Amelia or the people she’d let use him made Sam sick but this time as the name was spoke next to him something began to click deep inside him.

“Sammy, open your eyes. You’re safe,” Dean was starting to get more panicked the longer Sam didn’t open his eyes but guessed after all his brother had been through it was going to take him a while to convince him that this wasn’t another sick game. “Hang on while I cut you loose though.”

Having gotten one wrist free, he carefully lowered it since he figured his brother’s joints were hyper extended or worse if he went by the various bruises on Sam’s arms and legs from straps or ropes and bit his tongue to keep from snarling.

Wanting to allow Dean to be the one to free his brother, Markus prowled the room to look for clothes or something to cover the younger Winchester up with once he was freed when he jerked open a drawer and felt his stomach flip.

An array of bloody sex toys filled a drawer with some vivid photos of various people, including Amelia and the man, playing their sick games with Sam but it was when his fingers touched an open pouch for something that he couldn’t find that Markus felt his breath catch and shot a look toward the bed.

“It’s okay, Sammy. I’ve got’cha now and I’m getting you outta here before I kill this bitch regardless of what the Super Fed thinks,” Dean knew he was rambling but it was either that or break down and sob as he got the other arm free and hissed when his brother made no move to fight back against the hands on him. “Sammy?”

“Dean, he’s been drugged so…he might not be able to move or talk that much yet,” Markus reminded the hunter grimly, glaring at the now sullen woman. “How much of this crap did you shoot him up with?”

“Bite me,” she replied bitterly, sliding her eyes to the bed where Dean was pressing a hand to a cut on Sam’s thigh. “He’s gone. Your little brother? He’s not here anymore. He’s just good for what I want from him or maybe…that’s good enough for you?”

The Fed groaned and tried to get between them only to find himself knocked out of the way when that comment finally ignited the full wrath of fury in the hunter and he was across the room with his knife ready to cut. “Dean!”

“You freakin’ crazy bitch!” Dean grabbed a handful of hair like he’d walked in to her doing to his brother while ignoring the scream from her since he figured there was no way he could ever cause her enough pain to come close to what his brother had suffered. “You’re one breath away from dying as it is so don’t piss me off more,” he warned, voice dropping to the lethal one very few people heard and lived to tell about it as he glared into her eyes wide with madness.

“Sam’s not a toy. He’s not one of your sick games. He’s my little brother and you played with fire by even thinking I wouldn’t look for him or that I wouldn’t care enough to find him,” he gritted, realizing how easy it would be to use the knife and ignoring the hand that was trying to urge restraint. “She raped him!” he snapped, fury plain. “She let people hurt him all so she could…Damn it!”

Bryan Markus managed to grab the wrist with the knife and deflect it into the wall before it plunged into Amelia’s heart, feeling the cords in Dean’s arm straining against his hold. “Dean! I know what she did. Even though I haven’t seen everything you have it doesn’t take Einstein to see what’s happened here but think for once. She’s not a…okay, can’t go that way since she fits in the monster level but…”

He wasn’t sure what to say to talk Dean out of murder since he wasn’t certain the woman deserved to be spared that fate since he had a hunch that Sam had suffered much more than either of them were aware of just yet. “I know she’s not the first human you’ve killed to protect him but on this one, there is a better punishment.”

“Hell isn’t good enough for this bitch so I doubt if you can convince me that there’s something better than death for her or both of them,” Dean shot back, knuckles white on the hilt of the knife when suddenly something else drew his attention and he forgot all the black emotions building as he turned as a single word.

“…De…”

Shooting the other man a dark look, Dean returned his full attention to his brother whose glassy hazel eyes were trying to open but appeared to be sticky with some substance that the hunter didn’t want to focus on right then. “Shhh, I’m right here, baby brother,” he seen the movement and swallowed hard as he sat back down to reach for the weakly grasping hand. “Hang on a second.”

Reaching for the wet cloth that was held at, Dean grunted an acknowledgment before carefully wiping it across Sam’s bruised face but gentled his touch as he wiped it over his still closed eyes until he figured he’d gotten most of the crap off.

“Sammy, can you look at me?” he asked quietly, using his other hand to gently card fingers he forced to be steady back through Sam’s hair and pushed the burst of nausea that came as he felt how grimy and filthy it felt. “She can’t hurt you anymore. I’m here and…ignore the pain in the ass Fed I picked up along the way to find you.”

Feeling the strength of the hand gripping his, Sam knew that hand as well as the one touching his face. Despite the confusion, pain and fear he still felt, he tried to open his eyes and prayed his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him or that Amelia hadn’t found a way to make him hear… “De…?” his tongue felt so dry and swollen that only the nickname for his brother would come out and even that was a struggle right then.

Whimpering at the touch of the cool cloth over his bruised face and eyes, Sam felt that same touch stay on the side of his neck with a light squeeze that wasn’t meant to hurt as all the other hands had. He was nearly ready to attempt to open his eyes when suddenly his whole body was seized with an electric jolt that had him screaming in pain while trying to jerk to his side or anyway to stop the pain coming from his ass that seemed to go all the way through to him.

“AARGH!”

“Sammy?! What the hell?” Dean hadn’t been expecting his brother to scream as if he were in pure agony and had to move quick to avoid a fist to the head while trying to hold Sam down, afraid that if he jerked too hard until he was fully free that he’d hurt himself worse. “Sam! Damn it, tell me what’s wrong!”

As Dean tried to help this writhing brother, Bryan Markus’s steel blue eyes had shot across the room and with three running steps he was across it and slamming a hard boot into the already bleeding crotch of the man with the remote to the vibrator clutched in his hand. “Where is it?” he demanded hotly, hearing Sam scream raggedly and read it all in the sick smirk before stomping the remote under his heel and firing a single 9mm round into the man’s face.

“Sam, calm down,” Dean was trying to keep Sam still when he jumped at the sudden shot just as his brother seemed to go limp with only little shivers going through his bleeding and filthy body. “Damn it, Bryan! You said I couldn’t gank the bitch so what the hell was that?”

“I didn’t say that bastard was living,” the Fed returned, kicking the remains of the shattered remote with his foot. “Dean…you aren’t going to like this but…you’ve gotta get it out of him,” he didn’t miss the brief look of confusion that flashed on his friend’s face or the equally fast look of sick rage as it hit him.

“ _Sonuvabitch_ ,” he hissed, keeping his hand on Sam’s shoulder while nodding to Markus to finish cutting the ropes holding Sam’s ankles to the damn bed that he seriously wanted to burn before he left. “Sammy, listen to me.”

Body trembling as shock set in more than it already was, Sam’s eyes had snapped open to lock onto his brother’s and tried to twist his hips away from the mattress once he felt one leg free. “…Out…” he gasped, straining to move his stiff limbs in order to reach back but could only whimper as his abused body wanted to give out. “De…get…it out…please,” he knew he was begging but just wanted the pain to stop.

“Sammy…” Dean hated this. He hated to see his brother in pain to the point he was in tears but the very thought of dislodging that damn plug made him sick. “Hold on,” he whispered, going to move Sam to his stomach when the younger man let out a muffled scream and the hunter cursed himself.

He’d seen a little of what his brother had gone through and figured Sam had suffered more since then and a look at the cuts, burns and bruises on his entire front told Dean that the kid would never be able to let on his stomach, especially when a quick look on the bed showed the damn cockring that the now cackling bitch had kept on him for who knew how long.

“Get him on his side,” Markus remarked, having found a blanket and a shirt for later but guessed what was happening here. “If you trust me and you can hold him then I’ll get it out.”

Flinching at the sudden new voice, Sam tried to jerk as if to get away. “Who…no…no more…De’n!” he tried to find his brother as he was rolled gently onto his left side as a pillow was slipping between his knees to keep the red raw patches on his thighs from touching together and to also keep his still swollen looking shaft from touching anything when a blanket was laid over him to allow only his bare back side to remain uncovered. “Who…?”

“It’s okay, Sam,” Dean assured him, sitting next to Sam on the bed. Keeping one hand on Sam’s shoulder, he used the other to lift his brother’s pale and fevered face up a little so he could look into eyes so heavily blown in shock and drugs that only a little ring of hazel showed right then.

“Sammy, listen to me. You can see me and feel me. I want you to squeeze me hand in a second so you’ll know you’re not alone because Bryan…you remember Bryan Cabot? Well, he turned Fed on us and knocked your big brother’s head in,” he kept his eyes locked on the glassy tear filled eyes of his little brother while maintaining a steady dialogue which he prayed would distract Sam from what was about to happen.

“Anyway, Bry’s behind you and…Sammy try to relax now,” Dean thought that sounded stupid even to him but knew he needed Sam relaxed or this would hurt him more. “He’s going to get that damn plug out of your ass and then I’m getting you out of here because this nightmare is so over. Okay? Can you hold onto me?”

Sam wanted to do just that in the worst way but felt too weak to make his limbs move more than just to try to curl up tighter to where Dean was sitting beside him and grip his hand weakly when he shook suddenly until something fell into his line of sight and tired eyes locked onto what was swinging from his brother’s neck.

More interested in trying to reach for the swinging gold amulet than Dean’s hand anymore, Sam made a frustrated sound that reminded Dean of when his brother was small and wanting something he couldn’t quite reach and seen where his eyes had gone.

“You want this?” he’d slipped the amulet back on in the Impala earlier and now slipped it back off to place it into Sam’s trembling hand before closing his fingers around it and keeping his hand over it while easing Sam over more toward him to both allow a better hold and to give Markus a better chance at doing this. “When you’re awake more, we are so gonna talk about you having this all this time, baby brother.”

Dean squeezed the shoulder he was holding before looking up to meet the eyes of his friend and recognizing the look of sorrow for the pain Sam was about to be put through but both knew this needed down before they could move him. “Do it,” he whispered then went back to talking to Sam while trying not to move his eyes to see what he could well imagine was happening. “I’m right here with you, Sammy.”

Markus had sat on the bed as close as he felt he could get to the younger man without making Sam panic. He knew panic would come as soon as he touched him and felt bile rise in his throat as he looked at the mass of welts, cuts, hand shaped bruises that covered Sam’s back, legs but it was the dried blood he saw on the younger man’s rear end that forced him to step back in his own head.

Sam Winchester had been thirteen the last time Bryan had seen him in person. He’d been a soft spoken, almost shy boy who had a passion for books and learning, a typical teenage attitude to disagree with nearly everything his Dad said and a true case of hero worship for the arrogant son of a bitch that happened to be his older brother.

Like most annoying little brothers, he’d tried to follow Dean and his friends around no matter what else he was told. He could be annoying and prone to finding trouble easier than Caleb was and despite his bitching, Bryan had adored the kid.

Sixteen years later and he found himself watching Sam try to cling to his brother’s waist as his body trembled from shock, injuries and too many drugs in his blood.

It was clear to him that only keeping his focus trained on Sam and trying to remain strong kept Dean from losing what self-control he still had but the way his hand shook as it smoothed over Sam’s shoulder told how hard it was getting.

“On three,” he murmured, pitching his voice low so Sam wouldn’t hear it and be afraid but felt the way the boy tensed the second his hand touched the small of his back before trying to get a good hold of the plug that was covered in dried blood and other fluids that he so did not want to think about right then.

Dean could already tell by the dark look in the former hunter’s eyes that he would not like the wounds Sam had back there but right then forced himself to concentrate on the shaking form next to him, tightening his grip on his brother’s bare shoulder just enough to keep him still when he moved and if Dean knew anything it was that Sam would move.

He’d been dealing with Sam and injuries of one type or another for nearly all their lives. But while gunshots, knife wounds, burns, broken bones and the like never phased him the other type of injuries that he’d been forced to cope with, to help his brother over, at least three times that he knew of were the ones he hated.

“De’n…what?” Sam felt the warmth of a hand that wasn’t his brother’s on him and his whole body went rigid until Dean’s grip on his shoulder loosened to begin lightly rubbing at a livid purplish mark on it. “Make it stop?”

“It’s going to stop soon, Sam,” Dean promised, shifting closer and felt Sam try to hold on to him tighter as the pain he was in must have begun to dull the drugs and some memories were beginning to come back. “On three, baby brother. Close your eyes, hang on to me and on three it’ll be out,” he lifted his head up to mouth two silent words over Sam’s tense, trembling body before going back to soothing the younger man and ignoring the scowl he was sent.

Bryan Markus took a deep breath and tried to will his hand to be steady for this. He’d worked sex crimes for the first three years in the Bureau and had handled some shattered victims and some sick freaks but this was a boy he’d known and it broke his heart to see Sam like this, knowing how much worse it would get once he began to come off the drugs.

“I’m sorry, kid,” he muttered, hearing Dean whispering in a voice softer than he ever thought the older Winchester was capable of using when Sam whimpered at the touch.

Taking a shaky breath, he nodded before beginning to count in his head as Dean counted out loud but when he reach two and like both men had counted on Sam’s body relaxed slightly before tensing for the third, Markus gritted his teeth and gave the damn plug a solid yank on the two count.

“Arrrgh!” Sam’s cry was muffled as he buried his face against Dean leg, his body jackknifed against the burning pain as the plug, that had been shoved in dry but was now covered in blood and fluid, came free with a sickening sound and a vicious oath from the man behind him. “…God, oh…De’n…”

As soon Sam began to move, Dean was moving. Wrapping the blanket fully around his brother to prevent further shock from setting in, he knew that Sam would be trying to escape the bed, to get away from what had been done to him on it and while he couldn’t blame the kid he also knew that the second his brother tried that he’d be flat on his face.

Sam did move more, pain still preventing him from doing more than trying to at least sit up only to bit down hard on his lip when even the slightly touch to his ass jolted him with searing agony and he suddenly just wanted to curl up and fall back into his mind where it was safe and he could pretend this had all been one huge nightmare.

The feel of the amulet in his palm gave him some comfort as he forced his eyes to open and immediately locked on the worried green ones that were watching him and stopped moving to stare at his brother.

A large piece of Sam could still hear Amelia’s bragging that Dean was gone for good, that he’d never look for him, that he would hate him for…a brief burst of clarity and Sam’s breath began coming in ragged gasps again as it slowly sank in that Dean was here.

His brother had found him which was a huge relief until Sam’s mind flashed on the firmest image that his drugged thoughts could lock on and he realized he was naked under the blanket.

The memory that Dean had come in while Amelia still raping him caused a brutal rush of shame to fill him because while facing this was one thing for him, he didn’t want to bring this back to his brother.

Facing the shame and horror of the last few days would be hard enough without knowing Dean was aware of way too much this time.

Sam had tried to cover or downplay the incident with the Benders or the worst time when he was a teenager but he’d known that his big brother had only been too aware of what had happened to him but this time…he’d walked into it and Sam was sick of seeing the shame that Dean would feel because Sam was a hunter, he’d been taught to protect himself and…

“Sammy, don’t,” Dean had been watching his brother’s face as it went through an array of emotions before his eyes had started to fill and he tried to ease away from him and knew what was going through Sam’s head right then. “C’mere.”

Sam looked at the outstretched hand warily, not fully trusting this yet despite his more basic urge to give in and just let Dean take care of him like he had so many times before. He wanted to grab onto that lifeline and cling but still the thought of someone else touching him made his empty stomach flip.

“He doesn’t want you, you know,” Amelia spoke from where she was cuffed, shooting daggers of hate toward Dean then slid a look at Sam whose head had spun at her voice. “Sam only wants me to touch him. He liked what we did, didn’t you?” she lowered her voice as she stared into his widening eyes. “You begged me so sweetly when I made love to you all these times and…

While she was far enough away so that she couldn’t hurt Sam physically, mentally and emotionally she was still a huge threat to his still drugged, in shock and emotionally damaged little brother and Dean was at the end of his patience.

At the first sound of a muted sob, the rope of that patience literally broke. “Shut her up or shut her down, Bry!” he snapped, not giving another thought to anything but Sam as he reached over to pull his brother against him in a firm hug that he’d been wanting to do from the first second he’d seen the kid.

“C’mere, Sammy,” Dean felt Sam go rigid in his arms as soon as his arms closed around him but didn’t let go because he’d made that mistake once years earlier and it had taken him over a week to just get Sam to speak again much less allow contact. He wasn’t doing that again.

The perverted litany of words cut off as Bryan Markus used one of her own gags to shut the woman up even as Sam struggled to free himself from the embrace but seemed unaware of when his arms slowly reached around to hold on lightly as if afraid to really let himself return his brother’s hug.

“…Hurts,” he whispered, still hearing Amelia and her friends taunting him in his mind until slowly another voice began filtering in again.

A deeper voice, husky and gruff with emotions that he normally wouldn’t allow to even brush the surface much less come out in his voice, and as Dean spoke Sam slowly settled down enough that he could feel the grip of strong fingers on the back of his neck in a way that only his brother used.

“She can’t do this anymore, Sammy. You’re safe with me and I would never stop looking for you,” Dean assured him, keeping his tone steady despite the rage and fear still bubbling deep inside for what his brother had been forced to endure.

Dean had heard the hitch in Sam’s breathing before he felt his weak arms trying to hold onto him tighter as it gradually became clear that he was free and safe from further abuse.

That was when a large crack appeared in the dam that Sam always built around his emotions after suffering a serious injury and slowly Dean shifted to allow his brother the room to do what instinct should have him do next. “I’ve got you, baby boy and it’s over,” he whispered, feeling the jerk as Sam finally let out a sob that was part relief and part pain then turned to bury his face against his brother’s neck like he would as a kid and began to let the burning tears out.

As he soothed his brother, Dean knew this was just the tip of the emotional landslide for them because Sam was still in shock and numb from the drugs so he probably only remembered a little of what had happened. It would be once he’d gotten him fully away from the bitch and checked out, since not even Dean could deny that his brother needed a hospital this time, which would be when he’d have to get Sam to fully accept things.

It was those times that Dean truly hated because Sam tended to close down, a habit he picked up from Dean, when facing crap like this and the last time it had taken a fifth of Jack and a fight to break down those walls after the damn Benders had hurt his brother.

Fighting this time was not an option and it would need to be handled with tact and gentleness, two things that Dean wasn’t sure if he could still pull off after the last few years but as Sam’s body suddenly seemed to be wracked with sobs and his arms went fully tight as if afraid to let go, the hunter figured he needed to or lose his brother for good.

Agent Markus had stayed back in order to give the brothers some privacy but a look at his watch reminded him that they weren’t running on limited time, especially when he noticed all the blood on and around the bed. “He needs an ambulance,” he finally spoke, not surprised by the hot look that suggestion brought. “You can’t treat him yourself this time, Dean.”

“I know that,” Dean gritted, letting his chin rest on the top of Sam’s head as his brother seemed to be slipping into an exhausted coma now that most of the physical danger was over with. “He doesn’t do well with ambulances so I’ll take him myself but…Bry, behind you!”

He’d heard the footsteps from the floor above already and was already turning to aim the Beretta at the door to this basement horror chamber when a shadow came only a second before the new arrival busted into the room with a gun drawn.

“Drop it or I put a bullet in you now!” the Fed snapped after grabbing the wrist of whoever was stupid enough to show up to the party late, twisting it hard and using his full body weight to slam the man into the wall next to the door. “Not in a good mood to deal with anymore perverts today, jackass!”

“Huh? What? No, wait! I’m not a…damn it, Dean!” a muffled voice tried to yell despite having his face pressed into the wall.

Dean groaned as the voice reached him and he figured this night couldn’t get much worse. “Didn’t I leave you with obsessed Super Fan, Garth?” he asked, feeling more tired than he had a right to and just wanting to get his brother out of this room. “Though I still think we might have to downgrade her status to creepy Super Fan after this one.”

“You did but I figured you might need backup so I left her and drove straight here…after getting yelled at by that lady Sheriff you know,” Garth explained, wincing as his arm was still twisted in a painful position. “Um, you happen to know the guy breaking my arm?”

“Garth, Special Agent Bryan Markus,” Dean waved a hand as he shot out the introductions when Sam moaned and he felt the warmth of blood from the cut in Sam’s side as it began to bleed again. “Bryan, meet Garth. He’s a hunter…and I’m not sure how else to explain him so don’t kill him.”

Markus and Garth exchanged wary looks before both decided the other wasn’t a threat to the Winchesters. “Holy Mary,” the hunter breathed after taking a look around and deciding he was never telling Becky about this. “Is he…”

“He needs an ER,” Dean muttered, shifting a little and frowning when Sam only groaned but strained to keep his grip on his brother even in his sleep.

“He needs an ambulance!” Markus shot back, seriously not understanding how Dean had lived so long considering how stubborn he was. “How can you drive and keep him calm? He’ll be in agony in the Impala cause he can’t sit or lay on his stomach so…”

Nodding toward Garth who was rapidly figuring out that he’d stepped into one bad nightmare, Dean refused the ambulance idea unless it was for the Fed if he kept getting in his face. “Garth can drive and I’ll handle Sam but…” his gaze moved to where Amelia had begun to struggle in the cuffs as it became clear they were taking Sam.

Flashes of what he’d seen on the computer, to the photos, to what he’d walked in on to just the marks he’d seen on his brother brought back the simmering rage Dean had felt since figuring out that his brother hadn’t just chosen to walk away.

He’d allowed himself dark fantasies of making the woman pay in very vivid detail for touching his brother. For bringing back crap that he’d never wanted Sam to ever deal with again.

He’d tortured souls in Hell and despite not liking to think on those days Dean knew he could bring back that part of himself without too much issue since it had been on the surface ever since his return from Purgatory.

Every time Sam whimpered in the restless sleep he’d fallen into since even the touch of the blanket against his raw and abused body must be like agony and it reminded Dean of how much he seriously wanted the bitch to bleed.

In the drive to Beaumont he’d allowed himself to think of chaining her like she’d chained Sam down, of using some of her own sick little toys against her and of hearing her scream as he cut pieces of her away like she’d ripped pieces of Sam away; pieces of his brother that nothing Dean did could get back.

“Uh-oh,” Garth breathed, seeing the way Dean’s jaw was clenching but it was the way those green eyes had gone to slits as they glared toward the woman that warned the hunter this was bad. “He’s going to that place that Bobby always said it’d be bad if he did.”

Turning from Garth to look, Markus blew out a vicious curse before stepping between Dean and his potential target then had to push back a brief burst of worry as those hot eyes went to him.

Even though he’d been away from hunting for years, he’d kept his ear out and had heard various rumors about the Winchesters. Some he dismissed as plain nonsense while other things he filed away under the possibility of being the truth.

He’d heard that Dean had changed dramatically over the years but hadn’t bought into that too much until the moment his friend’s green eyes pinned him and the pure hate and desire to do Amelia the worst kinds of harm could be seen clearly.

“Sam’s bleeding, Dean. He’s got infected wounds all over and who knows if he’s bleeding internally. He needs that damn ER and he needs it as of yesterday,” he quickly dismissed using logic here because right then all Dean was seeing was the woman who’d tortured and assaulted his brother. “She’s not a hunter and while I won’t argue that she’s as sick as some of the things we hunted and that yeah, she deserves all the pain in the world for what she’s done to him…you can’t do it.”

The smile wasn’t amusement but one of pure lethal hate as Dean moved his gaze up to meet the steel blue ones of his friend then moved his hand lightly over Sam’s neck where a deep bruise still showed where someone had choked him.

“You and Caleb were there the night I killed that son of a bitch who tried to grab him. You saw what I did to that asshole. Caleb was there when I went after Dad’s so-called buddy for hurting Sam. So you know what I can do for him…now it’s just a bit more advanced because after spending forty years in Hell, ten of which I ripped souls apart like nothing, taking that bitch down won’t be anything to me after seeing what she’s done to him,” Dean replied, tone muted in a way that had Garth worrying.

The hunter had seen Dean in full bury over Becky but this tone, this almost emotionless tone that he was hearing now, was scaring the shit out of him. He was also aware that Dean could probably go through the Federal man without much more effort.

“Yeah, Cal and I helped you track that sick perverted pedophile down and we stood by while you made damn certain he could never hurt another kid,” Markus had always wondered if anyone else had ever learned of that private hunt but right now made himself keep his gaze locked on the hunter’s.

“Cal also told me about John’s friend and I know about those Rednecks eight years ago because I make it my business to keep tabs on you two and only because I was stuck on another case did you get Henrickson on your ass instead of me,” he went on, stepping closer to the bed but made certain not to touch Sam.

“Dean, I don’t know everything. I don’t know what’s happened to you or Sam and I know you want to hurt her for hurting him but can you live with yourself for killing a human, even if she is a perverted form of one?” he asked, letting his hand rest just slightly on Sam’s shoulder and actually hearing the sound of teeth gritting. “He’s hurt, he’s scared and he’ll go through hell before this is over but do you think Sam would want you to do something that will eventually hurt you?”

Wanting to snarl back that he could handle it, Dean looked down at Sam and knew that while the guilt could be buried under the justification of protecting Sam the elder Winchester also knew deep down that killing the woman in self-defense or to stop an attack was different than killing her now.

He wanted to. He wanted to take his knife or his .45 to her smug face just like he wished he’d been able to hurt the Benders more once he learned the truth but again…demons he got while people were just plain crazy.

“You think a jail will hold her?” he sneered, not stupid enough to think that Amelia or her old man wouldn’t find some loophole. “Nothing’s been able to so far.”

“Because her Dad always called in favors but those are done,” Markus assured him, firm on this because he’d see to that himself. “Dean, think about it. Lock her up in a padded room somewhere, no contact with anyone and sure as hell no way to get her fix…she won’t last long. Isn’t that more fitting a punishment than a quick death?”

Hating that it did make more sense, Dean still didn’t trust the people in charge to make it happen. “You swear to me that she won’t see the light of day again, that she’ll never be able to hurt anyone else like she has him and that she will _never_ be able to get close to Sammy again and…we’ll try it your way,” he finally stated firmly while moving the hand the man had placed on Sam with a warning glare.

“Her Dad isn’t the only one with friends in high places,” Markus replied seriously, wondering how many gutters and windows he’d have to clean to get his Mom and Step-father to pull this favor off. “Mom’ll make it happen especially if I mention Sam. She always was fond of him and you, though she thought you were a bad influence on me.”

“Caleb was a bad influence, dude,” Dean snorted, not fully liking this plan but when Sam shifted and his face scrunched in pain he gave a final dark look toward the woman. “Fine, but if she ever comes near him again I gank her ass and no one finds the damn body,” he warned, voice back to the more usual ‘touch my brother and I will rip your lungs out’ tone which while scary was actually a relief to the agent.

“Deal,” he agreed, gazing at Sam with concern. “Still say an ambulance…fine, how you planning on getting him up those steps and into the Impala since we’re about three miles away from where you parked her?”

Managing to get his keys without disturbing Sam, Dean held them out before tossing them to a startled Garth. “One scratch and I won’t be killing you over being BFF with Becky,” he advised, smirking as the gulp before the hunter ran to get the Impala. “What about the rest?”

“Before I came down here I sent a text to my partner. Rory’ll bring in some Federal marshals to handle the actual arrest but I’ll make sure it gets handled right,” Markus didn’t bother to tell Dean that his partner was actually already back at the main house and would actually be taking care of Amelia and her father personally until he had a chance to make some calls home.

“Stay by him,” Dean suddenly moved, being careful as he let Sam ease down onto a pillow, while reaching for the knife he’d dropped by bed.

Blinking, Markus groaned. “Damn it, I thought we agreed not to kill her,” he complained, debating on getting between them again when weak fingers grasped his as if Sam had felt the change even in his sleep. “Dean…”

“I’m not killing the psycho bitch, Bryan,” the hunter reassured him as he stepped to the side of the woman who’d put his brother through living hell for close to four days to avoid any kicks. “I’m just leaving her with a warning,” he added with a swift punch to the face that would have spit at him if not for the gag in her mouth before grabbing a handful of hair while holding up the knife.

“Not so much fun when you’re on the other end of the abuse, huh?” though Dean wasn’t sure she wasn’t enjoying the pain which made him even sicker but did want to get his point across. “You are still breathing because even if I could ditch the Fed I wouldn’t have time to do to you what you deserve so understand this, bitch,” he placed the tip of the blade right at the hollow of her throat after he’d pulled her head back. “If you so much as try to get close to Sam again or if you manage to have any of your sick pals try to come close to him again, a locked ward of cops or Feds won’t stop me from killing you.”

Fighting not to shudder at the thought of her touching Sam, he clenched his teeth as she screamed through the gag at him and even without words it was clear to him what was being said and he gave another yank to jerk her head back while getting directly into her face. “No, but I’ll tell you who he does belong to and why it’s not a good idea to ever touch my baby brother,” his fist landed again and had to force himself to step back or go too far.

“That kid’s been mine since the night I carried him out of our house and while I’ve allowed a lot of crap to get between us…there is no way in hell I’d ever let him be hurt by someone like you. You managed to keep him from looking for me and I didn’t see the signs soon enough that everything was not right with that but I have him now and you, you’re going to rot someplace dark where I can only hope you suffer in some way like you’ve made Sam and all those people before Sammy suffer.”

No longer caring if she screamed or ranted or even bled out from the shoulder shot, Dean turned to walk away back to the bed to try to get Sam up enough so he could figure out how to move him. “You screw this up and she walks…I will end you right before I do her,” he promised, seeing the nod and knowing he and Markus were on the same page. “Hey, Sammy? Think you can walk a little for me?”

Sam’s eyes flickered under his lashes but stayed closed, offering only a little sound of pain as he tried to curl up more into himself rather than wake up to face what he would soon. “…No…” he mumbled, dry lips cracking as she tried to reach blindly for his brother and only relaxing when he felt familiar fingers grip his. “…Home?”

“Yeah, we’re going home soon, kiddo,” Dean blatantly ignored the raised eyebrows of the other man since he was still refusing to call for an ambulance because he didn’t want more hands than necessary touching Sam right then. “Though this might hurt so just bear with me a little.”

Leaning down to ease one arm around his neck, Dean winced at the cry of pain that came from Sam as he attempted to get him standing but wasn’t expecting his brother to double up and nearly went back down with him.

“Easy,” Markus had caught Sam’s other arm to try to take some of the weight off of Dean while being very careful when he moved an arm around the young man’s waist, feeling Sam tense but a buried nibble of concern began to snake its head up that Sam’s pain and his inability to straighten up may not be all from being afraid of the hands on him but something more serious. “Dean?”

“Yeah, I saw it,” the elder Winchester had felt Sam’s side earlier and didn’t like how rigid it was but as blown wide hazel eyes finally opened enough to look at him he buried that to offer a calm smile. “Sammy, try to pay attention. Bryan’s going to help me get you up these steps and into the Impala, okay? Just try to stay with us because hauling your ass outta here will be a lot harder if you faint on me.”

Blinking a few times as if to try to clear his watery vision, Sam hissed when his whole body burned with pain, but his head seemed clear enough to know he still wasn’t dressed. “Clothes…?” he began coughing and felt pain explode in his side.

“That shirt is way too small for you and…” Dean paused to push the anger back again. “You’re too hurt to even attempt jeans right now, Sam. Don’t worry about that. Bryan saw you at thirteen when I tricked you into going skinny dipping in Pastor Jim’s lake,” he hoped he sounded more confident than he was feeling since it seemed to take them forever to just get Sam to the bottom of the steps.

“You didn’t trick him. He went swimming and you stole his clothes,” the Fed corrected, grinning at the memory of Jim Murphy scalding them both with a three hour lecture. “One step at a time, Sam. Just lean on Dean,” he urged the younger man, not liking how hard Sam was breathing or the way his legs were shaking.

Sam tensed at the other voice but didn’t fight it since he seemed to recall it but it was on Dean that he made himself focus.

Even with his eyes closed again to try to block out the pain and the vision of this place, he could still almost see what his brother was doing just by the way Dean was speaking to him or the other man. “…De?” he gasped out when the men paused on a landing halfway to the top, letting his head fall to rest on Dean’s shoulder. “…Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry over, kiddo,” Dean tried not to sound out of breath but there was no denying that Sam was four inches taller and several pounds heavier so it wasn’t as easy to move him like it had been when he’d been a teenager. “This wasn’t your fault. I’m just sorry I didn’t get back in time to stop it or find you sooner.”

A faint memory of Amelia threatening his brother caused Sam to tighten up only to feel a hand touch his face and tried to relax, he wanted to walk on his own since being naked under a blanket was one humiliation but having to nearly be carried out was almost worse. “I…try…to…walk…” he blankly thought it sounded good even before he swore he heard two nearly identical snorts and negative replies. “…Can so.”

“Huh, and here I always wondered if he got any of the infamous Winchester stubbornness,” Markus commented dryly, silently reminding himself to ask Dean what in the hell he’d fed this kid growing up.

“Oh, hell yes he did,” Dean heard the Impala finally pulling up and vowing to kill Garth if he scratched his car since it shouldn’t have taken that long to get it back here. “Hang around long enough and you will see him give me the bitchface to the Nth degree,” though he doubted if he’d be seeing that any time soon. “Hey, you’d get lost?”

Garth paused in the door to shake his head, gasping. “Uh, no. Had a small Fed issue,” he admitted, eyeing Markus cautiously. “Your partner is swearing at you in Latin, dude.”

“Crap,” Markus knew if Rory was lapsing into languages that something was wrong and he’d never hear the end of this one. “What? All he had to do was take one guy into custody and keep an eye on the psycho’s husband until I decide what his part in all this was. What’s he bitching about?”

“Your partner speaks enough Latin to cuss you out in it?” Dean, who barely knew enough Latin to speak an exorcism, found that a little strange.

Garth’s eyes were wide as he swore Sam looked worse now than he had a little bit ago but he remembered what he was saying while holding the basement door open as wide as possible so they didn’t jar Sam into it. “Umm, about that,” he coughed, looking back as a tall black haired man in jeans and a T-shirt appeared in the main door. “I think he better tell you.”

“Come to Texas. I need help arresting some people. It’s a simple job. No stress or problems. Was that theory before or after the old guy back there got his son-in-law’s gun and blew his head all over the damn porch?” he demanded in an accent that was pure Louisiana basin.

Latching onto Sam who nearly went down in his attempt to pull back at the sound of the louder, Cajun accented voice and only Dean and Markus’s grips on him kept them all from falling.

“Easy, little brother, easy,” Dean soothed, tightening his grip enough to let Sam know he was safe while motioning to Garth to open the back doors up. “I think this guy’s with Bry…though you might want to breathe a little, pal.”

“Thompson did what?” not expecting the older man to be that desperate to either escape judgment or face losing his daughter, this development shocked him while not upsetting him too much. “Where’s Richardson?”

Flicking dark eyes from his friend and the men he seemed to be helping, Rory Devane suddenly had a hunch why his partner had taken this job on solo and a look at the sagging young man in the middle also told him what they’d been dealing with.

“Oh, he’s just sitting on the porch steps. He said he didn’t want to go anywhere until he found out how…Sam was,” tilting his head just a little to indicate Sam, Rory lifted a questioning eyebrow to his friend. “This him and do I need just cuffs or a body bag this trip?”

“Shut up and go cuff the guy until I see what he really wants out of all this,” Markus shot back, ignoring the look Dean was giving him. “Ignore the Cajun moron I work with. He has fewer brains than you do normally.”

“Uh-huh. Use a lot of body bags, Agent?” Dean asked, feeling Sam’s leg buckle as they got him off the porch and finally reached the Impala.

Deciding it would be a bad idea to allow Dean and Rory to spend more than five minutes together, Markus just shot a glare while maintain his grip on Sam to allow Dean to get in the back seat before slowly lowering the younger man in to his brother.

“Where…?” Sam gasped in pain again, managing to bite his lip to keep the full cry in until he was eased to his side as much as possible in the cramped back seat but something about the feel of the leather under his hand brought a sense of home…of comfort to him. “De…you…?”

“I’m right here, Sammy,” Dean promised, using his balled up denim jacket as a pillow when he tried to get Sam to lay his head down on it, while pulling the blankets up tighter but not missing the shallow way his brother was breathing or the feel of blood soaking through the blanket. “Just rest now, little brother. We’ll have you taken care of and on the good stuff soon.”

As Garth got back behind the wheel, Bryan Markus knelt in the open back door to meet the grim eyes of his friend. “Does he have any FBI ID in the car you can use?” he asked, knowing that Dean wouldn’t be able to handle too many questions at the hospital and going the Fed route would at least ensure them some privacy.

“Always,” Dean replied shortly, feeling Sam grab his hand again as if needing some type of contact to ground himself and he looked down to offer a smile when all the calm he’d been trying to show went away at the first sight of blood coming from Sam’s mouth. “Sammy? Hey, look up at me now.”

Sam could hear his brother but only dimly and thought it weird that he suddenly felt so cold, not feeling the warmth of the amulet or Dean’s hand as much anymore either. “… … D…” gasping as his side and lower back blossomed in agony, he jerked hard against his brother and only heard a sharp and vicious oath before things went black for him.

“Shit!” Dean snarled at the first jerk of Sam’s body and then all hell broke loose in the backseat because it was hard enough to hold Sam still when the violent convulsions began and the young hunter began choking on blood. “Sammy? What the hell?”

“He must be bleeding internally,” Markus swore under his breath, motioning Garth over to the passenger side while jumping behind the wheel. “Rory! Call the local ER, tell them I’m bringing in a critically hurt man. He’s bleeding internally and has multiple wounds so have them waiting for us!”

Not bothering to wait for a reply and more than accustomed to the Impala, he tossed Garth his phone to pull up the closest Hospital on his GPS then met Dean’s wide eyes in the mirror. “Hang onto him and just talk to him, like you’ve been doing,” he urged, fighting panic himself but needing to keep Dean from losing it because if he did then they were all in deep shit.

“C’mon, Sammy. Hang on. Don’t let that bitch win like this,” he pressed his hand tighter around the hand that Sam still held the amulet in, ignoring the tears he felt on his own face while easing Sam up more so he could lean him back against his chest in hopes to keep him from choking on his own blood.

“Hey, did I tell you that I’ve decided to downgrade your number one super fan from obsessed to just crazy? Yeah, there’s someone more twisted than Becky and…you can yell at Garth for being buddies with her on that Facebook thing and…” Dean ran shaking fingers back through Sam’s grimy filthy hair while letting his brother’s face rest against his neck.

Trying to focus too many ways nearly caused Dean to miss the most important thing of all. He was about to tell Garth to dig in the glovebox for a couple IDs when a sudden chill went through him. “Sammy?” he glanced down to see the amulet laying in Sam’s open hand and it was then that he suddenly noticed that he couldn’t feel his brother’s breath on his neck anymore. “Sam!”

“Dean, what?” Garth turned to lean over the seat to help as Dean shifted Sam so he was sitting up in the seat and he shined his little flashlight in to allow some light and gasped. “Shit! His lips are blue!”

“How far to the ER?” Dean demanded, pushing back the panic that was building faster than he could block it as he felt for a pulse along Sam’s neck. “Bryan! How long?”

A glance at the GPS on his phone had his gut sinking hard but he pressed his foot harder on the gas. “Twenty minutes if I push her. How is he?” he let his eyes leave the road long enough to meet the terror filled green ones in the mirror and recognized tears along with guilt and building grief.

“He’s not breathing.”

 

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yes, I'm an evil writer who tends to cliffhang when I can. No worries. I always fix what I break.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Language as always though this one does have a couple slightly descriptive scenes. Nothing like CH 4 but I just wanted to put the warning out there. Oh, and this one may also need a slight tissue warning though trust me before threatening me about how it starts out.

**Chapter Six**

There were few things, other than the normal, that Dean Winchester could honestly say he hated. Oh, demons, witches, sick perverted sex fiends topped that list along with the smell of gas, wood, and flames all rolled into one.

He stood far back from the fire that he’d taken several hours earlier that day to prepare because while a raging out of control fire would certainly fit his mood he didn’t want the fire to catch anything else ablaze.

Dean knew what he wanted burned and he’d lost too much recently to want to see anything else in the area caught up in the fire.

His fingers moved to touch the amulet that was once again back around his neck, feeling the sting in his eyes but decided to blame it on the heat of the fire and the smell coming from it. It certainly wasn’t because he was watching a part of his life burn.

No, because he was beyond that anymore. He’d made himself accept that this day would come…but he’d hoped it wouldn’t be him standing here like this.

A soft hand touched his shoulder and it took a lot of willpower to make certain his eyes were dry before turning his head to offer a weak smile down at Jodi Mills. “Thanks for coming,” he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“I couldn’t have stayed away,” she was fighting her own tears but knew she could let those fall once this was over because the last thing Dean needed was to have to deal with her tears as he battled his own.

Reaching up to lay a hand on the side his face, it amazed Jodi how much younger Dean looked right then and it broke her heart. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

“We knew it would happen…I knew it would happen,” the hunter let his gaze move from the fire to look at the lone duffel in the back seat of the Impala and swallowed the lump. “This is what he wanted.”

Of course knowing that and accepting it didn’t make it any easier on Dean as he let himself watch the fire burning while his thoughts drifted back to how he came to this moment…

** Two Weeks Earlier, Hospital in Beaumont, Texas: **

The smell in hospitals never failed to leave a sour taste in Dean Winchester’s mouth. The antiseptic smell always reminded him that every time he came close to a damn hospital it almost always meant someone who loved was hurt to the point that he could lose them.

Growing up it seemed like that the only time they went to a hospital was when the situation was too bad to treat in the back of the Impala or in whatever rundown motel they were using that week.

Dean’s first bad experience with one came when Sam was probably three and had come down with a bad case of pneumonia and their Dad had put off taking his youngest son in for the cough he’d had for weeks.

It was only when the toddler woke up puking and running a three digit temperature that John had given in and by then it was nearly too late.

He could still think back to remember the sounds of those damn machines fighting to clear Sam’s lungs, the way his little brother looked when they stuck him in a tub full of ice to try to force down the fever and the look of fear on his Dad’s normally stoic face as the doctors talked about how seriously ill Sam was then.

At seven it was the first time Dean had faced losing his brother and it hadn’t been the last. He’d lost count of the injuries he and Sam had suffered through the years that had required a hospital…though he recalled Sam’s last stay in a hospital before this one.

After fighting visions of Lucifer in his mind for months, Sam had finally broke and it was nearly as terrifying for Dean to think of losing Sam to insanity as what he was facing now.

Scrubbing a tired hand over his face, the rough feel of slightly more than five o’clock shadow reminded him that he hadn’t slept or shaved in far too long but let his hand drop while absently running the amulet around with his other fingers.

The drive to the ER in downtown Beaumont had been more than manic though if he were honest Dean really didn’t remember much of anything except trying to get air flowing back into Sam’s lungs and the burst of helpless rage he’d felt when nothing he did worked.

Dean was fairly certain he’d punched the first intern who’d tried to take Sam away from him and only Garth lunging over the front seat to land on him in the backseat kept him from doing worse until Bryan Markus had gotten a better handle on the situation.

Rubbing his bruised jaw, the hunter made a silent promise to return the favor and slug his friend the first time he got the chance even though he accepted that he’d gone past the point of panic when he heard the ER staff talking about surgery, losing his liver, massive internal bleeding and damage on top of the damage on the outside of Sam’s body.

Seventeen hours later reminded Dean that whoever made the chairs in hospitals probably was in league with Lucifer because his entire body felt like Hell but he made no move to leave or even to pace as he had during those first long hours that his brother was in surgery.

He had no clue where Garth had disappeared to though he was probably still downstairs giving reports to Kevin and Becky, not that there had been much to report.

These past hours had been a nightmare in itself that Dean figured he could add to the list of growing ones he had from this whole mess since the ride to the hospital while trying to get Sam to breathe would be something he doesn’t ever want to repeat.

The other thing the hunter detested about hospitals was the hollowness of the words of supposed comfort from the staff.

Oh, they’re supposed to mean well and approach the family or in this case partner of the patient with sympathy and compassion in events like this.

Well, in Dean’s point of view their compassion and sympathy sucked as the rolling words of the doctor replayed themselves over in his head.

“‘ _I’m sorry, Agent Criss,_ ’” yeah, the second those first two words come out of a doctor’s mouth Dean knows to be on guard for the other shoe to drop and in this case it dropped big time.

“‘ _Extreme internal bleeding from the massive trauma he endured from multiple and severe sexual assaults. There was also serious internal bruising and damage to his kidneys and rectum. Agent Roth also suffered from blood loss from where he was cut and clearly bled as well as head trauma from a beating to the back of his skull._

_“‘Of course he also suffered from dehydration and malnutrition as well as infected welts, cuts and burns from things I don’t think I need to explain to you given the obvious assaults your partner endured. His one shoulder was partially dislocated and the joints in his knees also show bruising though even I can’t imagine the position he would have needed to have been in for that to have been done._

_“‘I was informed that several instruments of a sexual nature had been used on him which would explain why the injuries inside were so sever though I don’t believe any permanent damage was done to his penis from the long exposure to what must have been a restraint. In comparison to all his physical wounds, I fear it is the effects of the drugs we found in his blood that will be the worst aspect of this…if he survives the internal damage that is._ ’”

Watching as his fist clenched around the amulet he’d taken back after he was forced to leave his brother in the care of people who had no clue as to what Sam had just been through, Dean ignored the feel of wetness on his own face since he was basically alone in the private room.

They’d gotten Sam to breathe again on his own but his brother never regained consciousness again and while the doctor’s words about damage done due to lack of oxygen on top of the long exposure to two drugs that may well have burned Sam’s brain out or left him in a near vegetative state or with permanent memory loss…if he ever woke up.

Of course that was on top of if his heart didn’t give out from the strain of both the attacks and the effects that the damn scopolamine had on it because as it was clinically explained to him if Sam’s heart hadn’t been as strong as it was the long term use of the drug would’ve had him already dead from a heart attack by this point.

Dean had paced and growled while his brother was in surgery to repair all the internal damage that had been done to him. He’d thrown only one vicious fist into the face of a so-called well-meaning physician’s assistant after he’d the comment that a man of Sam’s size could have gotten free if he hadn’t ‘enjoyed’ the games.

It had taken Bryan Markus and Garth to get him off the man because he wanted to kill the little geek for even suggesting his brother had allowed that to happen to him and that thought brought his attention back to the multiple little pamphlets a timid nurse had brought out to him as if he hadn’t been the one to find Sam tied to a bed being raped by a nutcase.

‘ _How To Recognize the Signs of Sexual Assault’, ‘The Top Ten Ways To Help a Victim’, ‘The Physical and Psychological Reactions of Rape’_.  All little one or two page booklets to help a victim and their families get through the trauma.

Resisting the urge to tear them up or burn them, Dean set them aside after a quick look told him what he already knew because this wouldn’t be his first rodeo even though this was the first time that Sam wouldn’t be able to try to downplay it and that would be one of the biggest issues if…when Sam woke up.

Despite the life Sam’s lived, both the good and bad, there was still one thing that made him different than his big brother and that was how he handled his personal life when it came to relationships and sex.

Dean enjoyed the company of women and his looks had always ensured him that he didn’t have to look far when he wanted a woman, though after that little incident with those Amazons he was a bit more cautious when he went out drinking.

Sam, on the other hand, didn’t work that way and never had. He knew that things in Sam’s youth had made his brother more cautious about sex and while Sam had once testily assured him that his sex life was every bit as normal as Dean’s, the older brother knew differently.

Other than his first time with some girl in a town that even Dean couldn’t recall anymore, he knew his brother had mainly only been with Jessica. The night with Madison came up as he thought about it and Dean flat out put Ruby in another category.

Now the time Sam was without a soul, Dean really didn’t want to know what the hell his little brother had been up to and since Sam shied away from the easiest mention of it Dean knew to leave that alone.

However, sleeping with a woman and having normal sex with her…even if the woman had been a werewolf, was not in the same league as being drugged and forced to have sex with not only Amelia but whoever else she let near Sam and depending on what his brother remembered, Dean knew they were in for some times.

Sam liked to shut down, to keep all the pain in because he was afraid of facing the possibility of Dean being ashamed of him. He’d closed himself off when he’d been younger and he’d tried to shut it down after the Benders.

Those times had been emotionally scarring for Sam and Dean had hated to hurt his brother by making him face it or, in the case of those crazy Rednecks, tell him what the hell else had happened to him.

This time, this attack had pushed the envelope past the point where either Winchester gone before but if Sam was to recover then Dean accepted that his brother would have to face both the nightmares of what happened to him and also that it hadn’t been his fault and that his brother wouldn’t blame him.

Even if to do that meant that Dean might have to face and share something that he’d sworn never to allow Sam to learn.

Looking over to the bed, the hunter couldn’t quite push back the burst of concern that was building the longer Sam stayed unconscious.

Sam looked paler than he had earlier and with most of the dirt, grime and blood wiped away the immense amount of bruises on Sam could be seen that much easier and once again just looking at the marks on his brother reminded Dean how much he wanted that woman to hurt.

Since he’d be the one to have to clean those wounds and keep the infection at bay, he’d made the doctor give him a detailed explanation of every bruise, every cut with stitches as well as the injuries to places that the older brother cringed at even thinking about much less having to touch if Sam was awake.

“Sammy,” letting his hand brush back through Sam’s slightly cleaner hair, Dean felt the stitches along Sam’s scalp but didn’t dwell on those as he brought his hand back to gently touch a bruise on his brother’s jaw and because Sam was still unconscious let it rest there for a moment.

Because of the injuries, Sam was laying on his side in one of those damn gowns that clearly hadn’t been designed by someone sane and while normally Dean would’ve protested he accepted the reasoning…for the moment at least.

At ease enough with knowing his brother wasn’t awake to see him or razz him later, Dean let his hand gently move over Sam’s cheek and hair in a familiar soothing motion that he used to do when Sam was little and sick or when his brother was sleeping and hurt these days.

“Come on, Sam, you need to wake up,” he began quietly, assuring himself that his rough sounded rougher, more husky because he hadn’t been using it for the last few hours and not because he was swallowing emotions that he honestly feared had been destroyed in Purgatory. “You’re…safe, though it probably won’t feel like that for awhile and that bitch will never come near you again but…damn it, Sammy, I need you to wake up.”

Even though they’d been fighting more as of late and the bitterness between them had been thick enough to cut with a machete, Dean hadn’t allowed himself to face that he could lose his brother again Or at least not to something like this.

Sam walking away to try for normal was one hurt to Dean but that would’ve been something that he could’ve handled…after some time. However, losing Sam because of injuries that hadn’t even been caused by a monster that was in their line of work…that was a lot harder to swallow.

That and Dean’s own guilt for allowing it to get this far, that is. Moving his hand slowly until he found the hand that Sam had curled up close to his face, Dean carefully held it and wished for the feel of any type of response but Sam’s cold fingers remained limp.

“I’m sorry, little brother,” he whispered, using his other hand to lay the amulet in Sam’s other hand before lightly carding his fingers back through Sam’s hair again. “I should’ve been paying more attention to you. The little tells, the damn nightmares…the very fact that you looked so devastated when I’d try to drag a real answer out of you for why you didn’t look for me. I should’ve seen it all but…I didn’t.

“All I saw and felt was my own damn pain again. I took it out on you because it hurt so much to think that you’d walk away when I knew in my heart that something would’ve had to have happened to make you stop looking,” he thought of Sam’s huge eyes every time he tossed out a jab or threw Benny in his face.

The pain had been so clear but so had the fear if Dean would’ve just looked closer and allowed himself to think more on it. If he had then he might’ve known better when he sent Sam back to Texas that one damn time.

A simple idea to protect his brother or so he thought had just ended with Sam being hurt in ways that Dean wasn’t certain he could help him heal from…if the kid even woke up.

“I know it’s gonna be bad, Sam but if you just open your eyes I’ll…I’ll drop the no chick flick rule for a month,” Dean figured that rule was probably in the garbage for the next little while anyway since there would be no way to help Sam without a lot of emotion and he just hoped it was mainly Sam’s emotions he’d have to face. “You can even…hook that damn IPod thing back up in the car.”

That one stung but Dean wasn’t above bribery if he thought it might work but as Sam’s face remained the same, tense but still, he was nearly at the end of his belief that his brother would wake up when a knock on the door nearly had him snarling. “Yeah?”

“You better check out the local news,” Garth looked perplexed which reminded Dean that they weren’t out of the woods in that area yet and there’d be only so much that Agent Markus could do to keep the Winchester’s under the radar of the local authorities. “The cops are here too.”

“Peachy,” Dean muttered, giving another careful touch to Sam’s shoulder before grabbing the remote for the TV in his brother’s room to turn the previously lowered volume back up in time to hear the bright eyes reporter speaking about the previous night’s stunning events.

“‘ _Neither local nor Federal authorities are commenting on events close to twenty hours earlier that resulted in the fire and ultimate destruction of a ranch outside of town. Owned by Stan Thompson, a long time serviceman decorated for valor, the ranch and its surrounding buildings were all destroyed by a fire believed to have been caused by Thompson before the man committed suicide._

_“‘Details leaked to this station also indicate one of the other bodies located after the fire has been identified as Thompson’s only daughter, Amelia Richardson. While the other body has yet to be identified, it is rumored that Thompson killed himself after setting the fire to try to destroy evidence that his daughter had been running a secret Satanic sex cult and the other body was possibly a victim._

_“‘As of this time, neither Sheriff Wilkes nor the local FBI agent in charge of the investigation could be reached for comment but we will keep you…’”_

Flicking off the TV in mild shock, Dean let his gaze move to see if Sam had been disturbed by the noise and did notice that his brother’s face seemed tighter than it had been only a few seconds earlier. “What the hell?”

Dean couldn’t deny that he’d thought about torching the place but Sam’s welfare had been important to him. He also couldn’t figure out what the hell had happened since the woman had been alive when he left and Bryan was too much in pure Fed mode to have killed her.

“What in the hell happened?” he asked himself again, not caring for mysteries that he couldn’t explain.

“That’s kind of what I’d like to know.”

The gruff voice that spoke from the door had every nerve in Dean shooting to life because one look told him that the local Sheriff didn’t look happy and the hunter’s own mood was bouncing between protect Sammy and taking his frustration out on the first unlucky son of a bitch that got in his face.

By the look on the muscular cop’s grim face it looked like Dean might have just found a target for those dark feelings he’d been pushing down.

“Talk to the agent in charge then because I’m busy,” Dean shrugged but put himself between the Beaumont Sheriff and his brother’s bed.

Like most local cops, Sheriff Glenn Wilkes didn’t like when the Feds played in his sandbox. He especially hated it when something dirty went down in his town and this whole mess reeked of dirty and cover-up.

“Markus is a smooth talker and he’s got all the paperwork to cover his ass but my gut tells me that you two are the ones I need to talk to in order to fulfill my own curiosity,” he eyed the tall man shrewdly.

Agent Criss or so his ID labeled him had all the correct IDs and words to pass him and his ‘partner’ off as FBI but there was something else in the rugged young man’s attitude that just didn’t make him Fed material.

His body language as he stood now in between Wilkes and the bed told clearly that he’d strike if the cop took a step toward the unconscious young man laying there and that was his second clue, because he could tell there was a lot more here than just partners.

“Markus gave me a line that your…partner was working undercover and got hurt by this so-called cult,” level eyes slid between the bed and the man, not missing the way his jaw had clenched. “I’ve known Stan for more than ten years so this is…out of character for him to take the easy way out. You want to clear this up or should we do this at the station…once he wakes up?”

Fury was pressing but the thought of a cop or anyone questioning Sam for exact details twisted his gut. “You got your answers,” he kept his voice even. “He’s been through enough. Why don’t you go find someone else to drag over the coals if you’re looking to blame someone for what some sick bitch brought to your town.”

Wilkes started to step forward, considering hauling this smart ass downtown just for the Hell of it when a familiar click came at the side of his head. “I’m the Sheriff, boy,” he growled, hating the Feds for another reason.

“And I’ve got a signed paper from the Governor giving me full power over this investigation and if you take one more step I’ll only be too happy to put you out of my misery,” Bryan Markus remarked coolly, no trace of his usual slight accent as he’d slipped into pure Fed tone of voice while taking in the scene in the hospital room.

“The Governor and the Mayor both told you that my team had this and that whatever happened out on that ranch was a covert government investigation. An investigation that did not involve the local cops,” he moved so that his back was to Dean but kept his Beretta held steady while facing down the Sheriff, with whom he’d already had several fights with already.

“The fact that you knew Stan Thompson makes me wonder if you also knew about his daughter’s…habit and if you did then I might be willing to look deeper into if you knew she’d kidnapped a Federal agent once his cover was blown and held him within your town limits to rape him,” Markus smirked as the look that flickered over the older man’s face. “The smart thing to do, Sheriff, would be to walk away and let this go as what it seems to be. Press me, or get in his face again and I make a couple calls.”

Wilkes hated this cocky asshole but the badge he’d flashed along with the phone calls he’d gotten were a clear reminder that there wasn’t much he could do. Not that he was willing to back down that easily.

“I have my doubts that those two are Feds,” he sneered, jerking his head toward Dean. “I can spot a fake a mile away and…”

“Really? Well, I could let you talk with my boss but I can promise you won’t be happy to get woken up at this time of night with some local cop hassling me or two of the FBIs finest…but then I don’t think the Mayor’s all that happy either,” Markus lifted his eyes toward the door and gave the slightest tip of his head.

“You think the Mayor gives a crap about some Feds that are…”

“Glenn,” a deep but quietly warning voice brought the Sheriff to a halt as he turned to see a middle aged greying man in jeans and a work shirt standing in the door.

Swallowing as the Mayor of Beaumont leveled a hard look, Wilkes scowled. “Mr. Mayor, there was no reason for you to get involved,” he began. “I think there’s a misunderstanding here but this…”

“I think you need to leave and let the Feds handle this on their own,” the Mayor was of average height but carried himself in a way that screamed military to Dean as only a boot to his foot kept him quiet. “In the morning, you and I will talk about how much covering up you’ve been doing in this matter. Now, leave before Bryan really does shoot you.”

Looking like he still might argue, the Sheriff finally spun and stormed out with a grunt. After another moment, the Mayor exchanged a long look with the Federal agent before following the cop.

“Damn. This job is going to have me mowing the grass for two years,” Markus grumbled, shrugging at the wary look his friend had. “What? You think I have the Mayor of Beaumont on speed dial for nothing? There was another reason I took this job when I figured out where Thompson had moved, Dean. Mom’s got a wicked hatred for deviants and she still knows how to use a shotgun.”

It slowly began to sink in and Dean decided the less he knew about Markus’s connections in Beaumont the better off he’d be especially when a sound from the bed caught his attention. “So, you want to tell me what happened?” he asked, moving to the bed slowly while keeping his voice even.

“Oh, Thompson was so devastated at learning how far over the edge his precious little girl had gone that he killed her, decided to burn the evidence before shooting himself,” Markus had made certain the lie was believable to those that needed to believe it.

However since Dean wasn’t one of those people, he stepped closer to the bed to see that Dean had once again enfolded Sam’s hand in his while sitting on the edge of the bed. “That’s the popular public line. Now, all you need to know is all the evidence putting Sam at the scene has been burned away and…a Jane Doe was admitted to a private mental hospital in Houston. Mom will make damn certain she never sees the light of day or another human being again,” he stated calmly, hoping that Dean was too preoccupied to ask more detailed questions.

“Not a very legal or Federal thing to do, pal,” the hunter remarked, his full attention locked on the way Sam’s eyes seemed to be moving under his eyelids and squeezed his hand a little more. “Sammy? You coming back now or what?”

“You know this won’t be easy on him,” Markus recognized the way Dean’s shoulders moved as his only acknowledgement of that. “You can’t do the whole AMA thing, Dean. He needs care here before you try to lock him up in a bubble.”

“That cop will be all over Sam if I don’t get him out of here and you know it,” this time Dean did let his gaze meet the Fed’s. “This’ll be a nightmare for him without needing to deal with that or if the locals start pushing it that we might not be legit. Plus, I’m not sure if we’re still on the FBIs Most Wanted List still or not.”

Knowing that Dean’s concern for Sam would cause him to move as soon as Sam was out of danger, Markus didn’t bother to tell the man that he’d wiped the Winchesters out of the database again while hoping they could go a year without getting back on it.

“Rory and I’ll cover for you until you can get him out of Beaumont,” he sighed, nudging the bag of clean clothes he’d brought. “Just remember, this isn’t like when we were kids and you can’t bully him. You should call Mom.”

Remembering the way Hannah Cabot, now Markus, had hovered over Sam and griped to their Dad about dragging his sons through Hell with him, Dean had a hunch he’d get a similar lecture and while it was tempting to call on someone who was professionally trained to handle things like this, he knew his brother.

Sam would be pulling away as it is and it would be worse if he had to deal with someone other than his pushy big brother.

“Maybe,” Dean finally replied, leaving that option open when he felt the first move in fingers around his and took a deep breath before slowly dropping his eyes to see tired, still glassy hazel eyes staring up at him and the rush of emotions he could see building reminded him that it was time he found the big brother part of himself and fast. “Welcome back, little brother,” he murmured.

** One week Later: Whitefish, MT: **

It took nearly another full week before either the doctors or Dean were even close to satisfied that Sam could be released from the hospital and then that was marginal at best.

The main doctor in charge of Sam’s care had wanted to admit him until he’d healed more and came out of the self-imposed shell he’d built around himself.

That had caused Dean’s near unshakable calm to vanish because he knew if his brother got locked up in a hospital again that he’d never get him out because Sam would lose it which is why the hunter was pushing to get Sam out of the Texas hospital.

It had finally taken the intervention of Doctor Hannah Markus, Chief of Medicine in the chain of hospitals the one in Beaumont belonged to. It also helped that she was the wife of Beaumont’s mayor and the exasperated mother of a very stressed out Federal agent.

Getting Sam released once she arrived wasn’t hard. Dean had a harder time convincing the matronly older woman that had scared his own father more than once to let him take care of Sam on his own and she only agreed when it became plain how upset Sam was getting with the thought of his brother leaving him.

Most of Sam’s physical wounds had healed enough that they just needed tending to though he had a hard time sitting in the Impala due to the severe welts and swelling on his upper legs and backside but he’d refused to lay in the backseat.

Arguing with Sam when his brother was hardly talking wasn’t any easier than it was when he was vocal.

Dean found himself wishing to hear his brother’s voice more than just in whimpers as he tried to sleep or when he tried to refuse letting Dean tend the wounds or get him to eat.

Convincing Garth to go back to guarding Kevin was a little hard but after a brief battle of wills and a convenient call from the aforementioned Prophet asking how to get some fish out of the houseboat’s engine did the other hunter decide to leave, but not before Dean ordered him to stay the hell away from Becky.

That had been a week ago as Dean stepped outside of the cabin that he’d instinctively chosen to take his brother back to without thinking of what that might do to his already fragile mind.

Sam had closed himself off in his room, not even coming out to eat and the nightmare last night had resulted in Dean nearly having his jaw broke and Sam sobbing himself back to sleep curled in a closet while begging Amelia to leave him alone and for Dean to forgive him.

“Did you think it through about coming back here?” Bryan Markus asked from where he leaned against the door of his car.

The Federal agent from Homeland Security had decided he was sticking close to the Winchesters until he could get them the hell out of Beaumont, Texas.

His step-father had pulled a lot of strings and called in a lot of favors to get Sheriff Wilkes banned from the hospital but the man had still been a huge pain in the ass.

The state police and Markus’s own bosses had bought his explanation easily enough and as far as everyone was concerned Amelia Richardson was dead. Her husband had even identified the burned up body and Markus was silently glad no one got too curious about how Rory had pulled that one off.

Amelia was locked away under a Jane Doe tag, raving quite nicely in a padded cell about Sam and how she’d one day get him back and he just hoped that the woman stayed gone since he wouldn’t even bother trying to stop Dean again.

“It’s not like we have a whole list of places to go since nearly everyone we know is either dead or I wouldn’t trust them with Sam,” Dean sighed, stretching and hissing as his neck popped a few times since he’d been sleeping either outside Sam’s door or on the floor close to the bed.

Since waking up fully in the hospital, Sam hadn’t allowed anyone to touch him unless it was to dress a wound and that was a huge pain in the ass.

Normally when his little brother was sick or hurt he was clingy or at least wanted to be close to Dean. This time, there were times when it looked like Sam would crack and fall back into the pattern but then he’d pull back at the last second.

That was when the haunted look of shame and self-hate would enter his empty eyes and nothing Dean did or said would make him look at him.

“He’s never been this bad,” he stared at the cabin that looked as worn out as he was feeling right then. “I mean, he was quiet after that asshole hurt him when he was thirteen and he tried to pull back after those rednecks but he’s never shut me out like this, Bryan. I can’t help him if I don’t…if he doesn’t talk to me how can I help him?”

Thinking back to his teenage years, Markus couldn’t ever recall seeing Dean Winchester so unsure or so helpless since he knew Dean had a pattern that he followed when it came to taking care of his brother.

It usually went from killing the thing that hurt Sam, to yelling a little or a lot to cover the panic of losing Sam, to bitching after the usual fight to get Sam to let him treat the wounds. Then would come the hovering, the hyper manic overprotectiveness that only stopped when Sam finally had enough and shouted at Dean to leave him alone.

That always started Dean on the lecture that Sam was his priority and responsibility and he’d leave Sam alone once Sammy stopped being a brat. The fight over who was being a brat usually only lasted until Sam got worn down and finally let his wall down.

Of course that was also when Dean’s wall of no emotion came down because as soon as Sam cried or trembled his older brother was gone and only Dean could handle Sam at that point because Markus still heard the terrible scream from Sam the time John had tried to soothe his son and it was like controlling a wild animal on speed until Dean finally got his brother to listen to him.

However, this time Sam wasn’t following the pattern and that was throwing the cocky older Winchester off his game plan.

“This isn’t like being kidnapped and abused by some pedophile or those crazy rednecks or even that pal of John’s, Dean,” he was careful with his tone since he also knew how dangerous Dean could be when not exhausted. “Excluding the drugs that have scrambled his brains, he wasn’t just drugged to have sex with the woman. He was raped and sodomized for over fifty hours, Dean. You saw some on that video but…Rory found the other discs before he torched the place and…Sam was tortured in ways neither of us could understand,”

Since he’d taken some personal time, Markus had ditched the suit for more casual jeans and a T-shirt and now he picked at a slightly worn spot on his shirt before letting his eyes meet the heated but nearly warning gaze of his friend. “Unless you want to talk to him about Tallahassee.”

Dean felt his whole body go rigid and his mind was nothing but white noise to the point that he wasn’t aware of when he got in the Fed’s face until he felt the warning shove that put him back a step. “You don’t know jack about that,” he gritted, shooting a look back toward the cabin as if even the mention of that could hurt his brother.

“Yeah, were you aware that nearly everything you told Caleb he told me if he thought it important enough?” Markus sighed, not wanting to upset his friend when he knew he needed to keep himself level if he stood a chance of helping the younger Winchester.

Blinking at that, Dean rolled his eyes and wondered if he could resurrect his friend just long enough to kill him. “That has nothing to do with this,” he refused even the thought since he’d spent thirteen years keeping that night from his brother.

“No?” shaking his head, Markus pushed off from the car since he knew he’d done all he could and now it would be up to Dean. “Think about it for a second,” he urged then paused. “Sam’s closed himself off not only because of whatever he remembers since we’re not sure yet how much memory he has but because he’s afraid to open up to you this time.

“He’s afraid you believed that note or because of whatever you’ve seen or learned, and he doesn’t know what you know, he thinks you’re ashamed of him. That he’s let you down again because he didn’t fight back, that he failed as a hunter and that he’s a…draw on me again, Winchester and it’s the last time,” he warned firmly, seeing Dean tense but knowing he had to finish. “Sam’s scared, he’s confused and he wants you tell fix it but he doesn’t know how to tell you because he thinks you won’t understand.”

Getting behind the wheel, Markus leaned out the window as he offered his hand. “You’ve got to get him to understand this wasn’t his fault, Dean. You’ve got to get past whatever the hell’s come between the two of you and let him know he’s not alone or else he won’t come back from wherever he goes in his mind,” he knew it would Dean’s choice as to what he revealed or didn’t reveal to his brother. “Just be careful and… call me the next time you get in over your damn head cause I’m really tired of wiping the FBI database every time your name pops up.”

Shaking the extended hand, Dean offered a nod then forced a smile. “Won’t Homeland Security frown on you aiding and abetting two former wanted murderers?” he asked.

“I think they’ve learned not to ask too much where I’m concerned,” Markus replied with a shrug. “You can the kid out of hunting but you can’t always take the hunter out of the kid,” he reminded the hunter, a gleam showing in steel blue eyes. “Hell, I kill a zombie in Baton Rouge six months ago…of course that was Rory’s fault. Watch your back, Winchester.”

Deciding he’d have Sam check into just what their friend had been doing, Dean nodded. “Watch yours, Cabot,” he caught the smirk then waited until the car was out of sight to look back to the cabin.

It was getting dark and regardless of how bad he was in the daytime Sam’s nightmares and reactions always seemed to get worse at night came on them.

Checking the salt lines and wards around the cabin for the sixth time since coming inside, Dean tried to sit on the couch but couldn’t help but let his gaze go to the broken coffee table and he could see the initial assault here in the cabin that had begun his brother’s torment.

Giving the table a shove with his foot, he vowed to burn the damn thing the next day and he heard the first sound of what promised to be a very long night and wondered how long it would be before either Sam went too far down that dark path or he crashed from exhaustion.

He’d tried to talk to Sam earlier when the usual battle over dinner happened but the pure panic in Sam’s huge eyes when Dean reached out to him finally made him step back and there hadn’t been another sound from Sam’s room since…until now.

Dean had been tempted to give his brother a tiny dose of something to help him sleep but didn’t want to until he had a better idea of how the other drugs had affected him and until Sam actually did more or said more he’d never know that.

“ _Sonuvabitch_ ,” he whispered, hearing his name but knew he wasn’t being called and that Sam’s nightmares were making him beg his brother to forgive him.

Dean just wasn’t sure what Sam wanted forgave for and unless he wanted to push and possibly shatter the kid more than he’d never learn much less help Sam start to heal.

Markus’s mention of Tallahassee made the hunter’s stomach clench. He did not want to bring even the faint memory of that close to Sam.

“Huh. Who’re you protecting? Him or your own damn self?” he asked the empty room, head jerking around as a new sound came from down the hall and Dean was on his feet before he could process it. “Sam?”

His hand just about to knock, Dean snorted and pushed open the door like he would any other time his brother was hurt.

The room was one they shared but since this had happened he’d left Sam alone in it so his brother wouldn’t feel too closed in, now Dean was wondering if that had been a fully wise move.

When he’d last been inside the bedroom a few hours ago, it had looked fine. Now as he stepped in, the little bit of light coming from a table lamp near the door showed that both beds had been shoved to the floor and the frames had been broken apart.

“Okay, this isn’t good,” he murmured, sticking his suddenly damp palms into his pockets while letting his eyes search for Sam. “Sam?” he called quietly since he didn’t want to scare his brother and only long ago learned hunter’s instincts gave him the speed to turn in time to avoid the ragged piece of broken glass. “Sam!”

Whirling to avoid the off balance slash that still would’ve cut him bad, Dean only had a second to register the glassy, still half asleep eyes of his brother before the broken glass in Sam’s bleeding hand slashed again and the older man swore at himself for not seeing this turn of events.

The doctors had told him that Sam would have flashbacks for a long time and without knowing the exact damage the drugs had done to him he might not always remember where he was or who he was with.

It was clear to Dean as he tried to avoid getting cut open that his brother hadn’t woken up fully from this nightmare and his mind was back in that room. Only this time he was fighting back like he hadn’t been able to there.

“Get…away from…me,” Sam gritted, pale as his still sore body protested this much movement he seemed unaware of the blood on his arm as his hand bled from where he’d slammed it into the mirror. “Please…jus let me…go…”

Dean didn’t want to hurt his brother but he also didn’t want to get cut. So stepping back just as Sam slashed again, he grabbed the wrist to pull it back behind Sam while being careful when he stepped behind his brother to pin the arm and closed his eyes against the ragged cry.

“Nooo! Don’t…letgoofme!” Sam tried to twist free and while he normally had the height advantage to do that his weakened body didn’t have the strength to fight this time and he suddenly seemed to go limp against the wall. “… ‘Melia…please…don’ touch…me,” he whispered, hissing when a strong arm slid around his waist as lowered to his knees. “No…bastards…not…Dean…”

The buried pain in how Sam said his name had Dean going rigid, green eyes snapping open. “Damn it, Sammy. What in the hell did that bitch make you see?” he asked more of himself than his brother who had begun to rock himself the moment his arm was released. “Sammy? It’s me…Dean. Shit, you cut yourself pretty good.”

Stepping into the small bathroom, he grabbed a towel and a glass of water before going back to see that Sam had scrambled into a corner as if needing to keep his back to the wall so no one could hurt him from behind again.

Dean knew his little brother had never liked to have anyone behind him from the time he’d been thirteen and it made more sense to him know considering what he knew and suspected had happened to Sam. “Can I look at your hand?” he moved slowly, keeping his hands held out in front of him to reassure his brother that he didn’t have a weapon.

Though as Dean knew well, a person’s hands could be the most lethal weapon in the world and for Sam right then a pair of hands might be more dangerous than a gun or knife.

“Sammy, you had another nightmare but you’re safe. I’m here with you but you’ve gotta let me in, little brother,” he made no move to touch Sam when the younger man actually appeared to make his 6’4” frame smaller as he curled up more in the corner.

“No…Dean…won’t come back,” he mumbled, seeming to see something but not his brother as his unhurt hand tried to clutch something. “She…made me write…and hates me anyway and…he’d be…ashamed of me for…Dean!”

The cry was half pain, half fear and Dean knew he had tears in his eyes even as Sam’s own slid down his bruised cheeks untouched as the tortured memories attacked him as viciously as people had so many days ago even though to Sam it seemed to still be happening.

Sam wanted to curl into a ball and just let whatever darkness existed claim him. Every nightmare seemed more vivid, more real even though a small part of him knew he’d been rescued. He could hear his brother’s strong, husky voice assuring him that it was over but it would never be over for Sam when he couldn’t even stand to see the disappointment on Dean’s face.

Slowly as it usually did when the dreams came too hard and fast, Sam began to calm down and pull back into himself where he’d learned it was safe.

Sam hadn’t used that safe little world in his mind since he’d been thirteen but the first time Amelia had allowed the drugs to dim and his mind realized what was happening he’d gone back to that place or as much as she’d allow him since it had pleased her to make him a part of his own rape.

The first time that some man with huge hard hands had touched him, the first time some guy had shoved his dick into Sam’s already sore ass was when the door to that little place opened fully and locked tightly in order to allow the hunter to retain his sanity.

He wanted Dean. If Sam was honest with himself he’d let himself admit that all he wanted right then was his big brother to make all of this go away like he’d down for as long as Sam could remember but to get that meant that Sam would have to face Dean and that was what he couldn’t bring himself to do.

Memories were still livid with him even though he’d overheard the doctors telling Dean that the odds were good that the drugs that he’d been given, overly given actually, would probably keep him from recalling too much of the events of his captivity.

Really? No such luck as Sam knew if he let himself think that he could recall most of the more vicious attacks. The games she played and let others play with him. He could recall her voice whispering in his ear, telling him how filthy this was and that his big brother was long gone and would never forgive him for being such a whore.

Hell, he knew his brother still hadn’t forgiven him for the time he didn’t look for him and Sam had been too ashamed then too to tell Dean about the memories that were flashing in him of that time in Texas and how much he’d wanted to look for him but couldn’t.

Sam wasn’t sure how much Dean knew about this time but it didn’t matter. His brother would never, could never understand what had happened to him or why he just wanted to find a dark hole and stay there forever or until he could close his eyes and not feel all those hands on him, not feel the pain of being gang raped while Amelia whispered things about Dean in his ear.

“You…you were right,” he suddenly whispered, could do no more since his throat was still raw from screaming and being abused.

Sam knew Dean was close but not too close since he also knew he was too disgusting to want to come close to but without moving his head from where it had dropped on his knees, he did slowly lift his tired hooded eyes to see his brother crouched a few feet in front of him.

Wanting so badly to move to Sam, to take that shaking battered body in his arms like he would when they’d both been kids, Dean held back because he didn’t think Sam was prepared for that even though any other time he still would’ve.

“What was I right about?” he asked instead, surprised at how ragged, how torn Sam sounded when not even the second time he’d been coming down from demon blood did he sound this lost. “Sam?”

“About…Benny…you were right. He’s a better…bro…brother to you than me,” the sob broke off as his face dropped back to the crook of his arm, missing the sudden flash of heat that surged into the opposite set of green eyes. “I…I can’t do this again…not like this. Not without…you and you’d never…”

Swallowing the burning lump that was threatening to choke him, Dean closed his eyes and as he did he once again saw what he had on that screen and what he’d walked into in that room but this time he didn’t feel the burning rage.

Oh, he felt rage but not as hot as it had been. This time as he listened to the tears trying to be choked back because Sam wasn’t close to releasing all his pain yet, Dean just felt broken and helpless.

Ever since Sam had been old enough to crawl, he’d been the one to make all the badness go away for his little brother. Nightmares, bullies, killer clowns or creepy bugs had been nothing that he couldn’t kill or take the fear away from Sam.

He’d held and soothed Sam after everything they’d faced and even after Sam had nearly fallen apart when Jessica died Dean could usually find a way to bring his brother back to solid ground. This time though he didn’t know how to help him because this time, this injury, was totally different from the pervert back when Sam was a child or their Dad’s so-called friend or those screwed up rednecks.

This time was made infinitely worse because of the drugs that made Sam respond, that allowed him to be conscious mostly through it all and he’d never been forced by more than one person before.

His little brother was broken in more than just body but he also believed that he was worthless, and that Dean would think even less of him…that Dean was ashamed on him or wouldn’t understand.

“Damn it,” he whispered, pushing up to his feet while trying not to noticed how Sam jerked as the motion as if he thought Dean would lash out at him.

Pacing the bedroom while removing his brother’s black bracelet from his pocket, Dean managed to sit the bed farthest from the door back up and let himself down on it with a heavy sigh.

He hadn’t wanted to do it this way. He’d hoped with enough time that Sam would come out of this on his own but knowing his baby brother believed he deserved so much self-hate and Dean’s hate told him that he wasn’t going to get Sam out of this self-induced funk unless he got him out himself and that meant bringing another elephant into this already dangerous emotional battleground.

Wishing he’d brought whiskey in, Dean shoved that away because he knew he couldn’t be drunk to do this even though he prayed he could do this without throwing up.

Dean had always been the strong one when it came to dealing with Sam’s issues or even their Dad’s. He wasn’t always as good at handling his own inner demons. Those he buried, ignored or just drank away.

That was how he finally had dealt with the events in Tallahassee thirteen years earlier. Only Sam’s constant bickering with their Dad had allowed him to forge ahead and also keep his little brother, then seventeen, from learning the truth.

Now to help Sam, Dean knew he’d have to try to get through the fog and pain in Sam to make him understand that maybe his big brother would understand a little of what he was feeling.

“Sammy?” he called quietly, knowing Sam was awake but close to slipping away again and finally decided to say the hell with it and just jumped. “Do you remember the job down in Tallahassee back when you were seventeen…well, you would’ve been sixteen since I turned twenty-one? I need you to listen to me and try to remember it, Sam.”

Struggling to breath as his lungs seemed to want to not work right, Sam’s fingers found the glass of water that had been left near him and tried not to spill any while he sipped it shakily before his brother’s voice registered.

Tallahassee? Florida, the winter of 2000 and the damn ghost witch with a pissed off attitude toward anything in general. Yeah, Sam recalled it because he’d gotten pissed off at his brother and he’d ended up getting his ass shipped off to Pastor Jim on some lame excuse that Jim needed help.

Realizing Dean had stopped speaking as if he was waiting for some kind of acknowledgement; Sam managed to nod his head but kept his gaze down. He had no clue why this was being brought up because Dean had viciously and violently refused to talk about that job anytime Sam had asked about it.

“Yeah, ghost witch with a bad attitude and you and Dad bickering like usual,” Dean made himself sit on the bed even though that was the last place in the room that he wanted to be, rubbing his sweating hands on his jeans and reminding himself that this was for Sam.

“It was supposed to be easy. You’d done the research, flawlessly as always, we knew were the bones were. Dad even let the two of us handle the salt and burn. Bones burned, witch gone, new owners of the house happy as pie and my twenty-first birthday the next day. Too bad nothing ever goes easy for Winchesters,” Dean’s tone was dropping in a way that Sam hadn’t heard before and despite his own pain, the low and flat tone made him shift his head enough so that he could watch his brother from under his lashes.

Dean looked bad from Sam’s point of view of back in the corner. His brother’s face looked shadowed as if he hadn’t shaved in a day or so but it was the shadows under his eyes that reminded him that whenever he’d woken up recently that he could hear Dean’s voice.

Though there was something else wrong. Dean looked too grim, too…young for being the thirty-four year old man he was but something about what he was telling was bringing back something that he was clearly fighting against.

“…Pissed at you,” he murmured, wincing as his throat burned but despite his desire to just curl up and die Sam felt that Dean needed to know he was listening even if he didn’t get the meaning behind the words.

Dean clearly did get the meaning because a slow but dark smile formed as he stared at a scar on his wrist, a scar that Sam had never known its origin.  “Yeah, you were pissed off at me because I refused to take you to the bar that night,” he nodded, seeing his brother’s hurt expression a second before the mother of all bitch faces took over. “I was twenty-one and legal for the first time. You thought I didn’t want to hang out with you when I could be out getting drunk or screwing some girl…your words, Sammy…but that wasn’t it.

“I’d scoped those bars out earlier in the week so I knew what most of them were and the one I’d picked sure as hell wasn’t one I’d even attempt to take you to. Plus, I’d planned to go out, have a couple beers, shoot enough pool to score some decent cash so when Dad took off the next time I’d have enough to keep food in my still growing little brother’s belly,” Dean wasn’t aware that his one hand had fisted on the bed next to this thigh or how hard he was gritting his teeth. “Then I was coming back, grabbing your pouty self and going for pizza and bowling but in the end not taking you was the only thing that kept me sane when it all went wrong.”

There is was again. That drop in tone but this time Dean’s voice shook and Sam could count on one hand the number of times he’d heard his brother sound like this and none of them had been good.

Staying silent, Sam did slowly uncurl a little so he could watch Dean closer while closing his hand around the amulet that had been Dean’s and Sam made a mental note to ask his brother how he’d found it.

Despite his own pain and humiliation, there was something about Dean right then that was telling him to pay attention because his big brother did not do the share memories thing very often and especially not in that tone.

“Do you remember a few weeks later when Dad, Bobby, Caleb and I got to Jim’s place? I know it’s been a long time and right now you’re probably wish I’d shut the hell up but I need you to remember because I need you to understand what else I’m going to tell you, Sammy,” Dean could feel the eyes on him and knew he’d captured Sam’s attention but right then couldn’t make himself look up. “Can you remember how I was for the next month or so?”

Drugs, pain, bad memories of his own didn’t remove that memory from Sam’s brain because he remembered all too well how his brother was right after getting to Jim Murphy’s place.

Sam had been confused as to why Bobby and Caleb were there because Jim hadn’t mentioned his Dad and brother finding another hunt but what had confused him more was how every time he went near his brother Dean had pushed him away.

Dean had been moody, testy, nasty and a son of a bitch for the next few weeks that they stayed at Jim’s cabin. Refusing any contact with anyone, even their Dad, and snapping at the least little thing. Though it was his choice to sleep in a room alone, unlike sharing one like they always did, that had crushed Sam because he couldn’t figure out what he’d done to make his brother angry with him.

It had taken nearly a month and a stern fight with their Dad to make Dean start sharing a room again but he’d still kept Sam at arm’s length. Never showering or changing until his brother was in bed or asleep and never taking his jacket or overshirt off even as the cold turned to heat.

He also remembered that Dean stopped going to bars unless Caleb was around. He wouldn’t even go with their Dad like he used to because Dean had always liked to prove that he was better at pool than the old man but the one time their Father had suggested it he’d watched his brother’s face go pale before the mask came on and the refusal was cold.

To Sam’s memory he’d never seen his father and brother go shoot pool or anything again. In fact, as Sam slowly rubbed a hand under his runny nose he thought that was also when Dean began putting up the shields more around everyone, even Sam.

“Hey, you done overthinking so I can get back to my point?” Dean had finally lifted his head to watch the interesting way Sam was chewing on his bottom lip and the way his forehead furrowed like it did when he was thinking too much. “My point with that was…Dad didn’t send you to Jim’s to help him on a hunt and Caleb and Bobby didn’t just show up in Florida. Dad called them just like he called Jim to take you because…because I let my guard down and got nailed by some son of bitch.”

Slightly put out about the overthinking comment when he was in the process of a silent breakdown, Sam nearly shut his brother out right then until those last bitter words hit him and his full attention was now on Dean and what he was trying to say.

“I went to the bar. I shot some pool and was doing pretty good…well good enough to keep us fed and maybe buy you that book you’d been pining for but then…this guy came in. He looked familiar and I thought I’d seen Dad talking to him a few days before so when he said that Dad had mentioned it was my birthday and offered to buy me a beer I didn’t refuse,” looking back at his hands again, Dean struggled to stay still when his every nerve was screaming to move. “Seth Jessup…huh, I don’t think I’ll ever forget that name.”

The name rang a bell to Sam too because he’d been with his Dad the day they’d run into the man, a former Marine who hadn’t served with John Winchester but who’d known him, and it didn’t take Sam long to pick up on the vibes both from the guy and from his Dad.

Normally John was making a big deal about Sam standing up for himself but this time he’d barely said a quiet hello to the overly friendly guy when his Dad’s fingers were digging into his arm and putting himself between Sam and Jessup.

He’d heard every word and his Dad had never even mentioned Dean but yet Jessup had asked about him then it got weird because his Dad had told Sam to stay in the truck while he physically moved the man down the sidewalk and after planting a very firm finger in his chest while saying something he’d returned to the truck and Sam could practically see the hate radiating off his Father.

Realizing Dean was speaking again, Sam made himself catch up and stay focused this time because somewhere in his gut he knew this wasn’t going to be something that his brother would ever bring up again.

“I’d been hustling pool in dive bars since I was sixteen and knew the rules. I knew never to turn my back on a sore loser and never to leave my drink where I couldn’t see it at all times but…I was on edge. This guy just put all my nerves on edge and if I’d’ve had you with me we would’ve been gone before he even sat down,” Dean sighed, his fingers beginning to play with the rubber bracelet as if he needed a distraction.

“I drank the beer because I didn’t want to piss Dad off by being rude to one of his pals and made some excuse about having to get going or my little brother would throw a tantrum but I felt off, a little too hot…way to dizzy and it happened too fast for me to realize the bastard had slipped something into my drink.

“By the time it did sink in…it was too late and he was leading me out of the bar with some excuse to the bartender and when I tried to fight he cracked me in the head with something and that was it. I blacked out and didn’t come to until…” Dean stopped when he heard the first crack in his voice.

This was the first time in thirteen years that he’d spoken openly about that night because he’d only given his Dad enough pieces to easily fill in the obvious blanks. Caleb had gotten more since he’d gotten Dean drunk one night to finally get him to expend the building pain and guilt that had been slowly destroying him.

“When I woke up or what we’ll call waking up I was already stripped and tied on a bed in some damn filthy room and he told me that I was calling Dad and telling him that I’d be gone for a few days. I said no way in hell but that’s the bad thing with those drugs, Sammy…you do what you’re told even when all I wanted to do was scream to Dad for help.

“I’d been conning and lying long enough that I guess it’s second nature for my voice to do that and Dad bought it or something because all I knew was for the next week all that bastard did was rape me. I tried to fight it the first couple…dozen times because that’s also second nature. To fight the first time some guy sticks his dick up my ass dry or his fingers or fucked my mouth.

“After a while though it all blurs and it just seems that even while my mind fought it, tried to ignore it, my body did whatever the hell he wanted. He got off on making me react to him and when I didn’t do something right or he let it lapse between drugs and I fought him he told me in vivid detail what he’d do to my sweet baby brother,” Dean’s tone had gone flat and he was not aware of the feel of the tears leaving tracks on his face as he thought back to that time and how powerless and dirty he’d felt.

It felt stifling in the bedroom with the windows closed and the closeness of that heat made Dean feel the same heat that he’d felt the week in that room where he’d been forced to drink through a straw and only fed what Jessup had chosen to given him when he chose to feed him at all.

Dean hadn’t planned to reveal it all to Sam but his mind had drifted off into memory so that he wasn’t aware that he was still talking. Telling about the humiliations that man had forced on him, the acts that weren’t legal in any of the fifty states or the painful little games he played to punish Dean.

He hadn’t realized he’d been talking until he heard his own voice choke off as he spoke of the last rape that had been going on when shots rang out, voices shouted and the man was jerked away and off of him before his Dad’s nearly wild eyes appeared over his and Dean had known the ordeal was over…at least the physical part of it.

“Caleb told me later that Dad hadn’t bought my story and had known something was wrong when he went to the bar and found the Impala. The bartender had described Jessup and it all hit. Dad didn’t want you involved and to this day I don’t know if he wanted you out because he didn’t want Jessup close to you or because he knew what he’d find and didn’t want you to see me that way. I know I didn’t want you to see me, Sammy,” he sounded dark, much like he had after he returned from Hell as he stood close to the bed but near the open window.

“Dad told Jim to keep you with him, to lie about some hunt he needed help with while he called Bobby and Caleb because Jessup had disappeared. I was in a hospital for a couple days because I was beat up, torn up inside and pretty much starved. I just wanted to get the hell out of Florida and go get you…but the closer we got to Jim’s place the more scared I got and I made them swear never to tell you what happened to me,” Dean heard his own chuckle but knew it wasn’t out of humor.

“I was your big brother and I was supposed to be able to handle it all and never fall but here I was barely about to sit, much less sleep without feeling the bastard all over me. You were out of the cabin and nearly to me when all I could feel was the ropes, his hands on me and knew if you touched me right then I’d break and I swore never to let you see me that weak so I pushed you away,” eyes staring out the window, Dean could see the hurt in his brother’s eyes back then and every time after that when he’d push at Sam or say something hurtful.

Fighting not to hurl his fist into the wall or lock himself in the bathroom to get rid of the churning sourness, Dean took a shaky breath. “All I wanted was to be with you, Sammy. To hear you ramble on about something new in school or some book you’d read or even to hear you and Dad fight but it hurt so damn much to see your eyes and know that if you ever knew about that, what he did to me that you’d think…” he stopped, needing to stop because it was all too much.

“So, you see, your big brother does know a little about that those sick sons of bitches did to you. I know you had it a helluva lot worse in less time but don’t think I hate you or that I’d ashamed of you because you think you responded to them,” Dean wasn’t sure if Sam was still listening or not by this point and couldn’t bring himself to look as he spoke again. “You tried to fight, little brother. I know you did but you couldn’t, not against the drugs or those odds and even though you don’t want it, even though you don’t trust me I’m going to be here with you.”

Sam was numb. He’d been numb before but now found himself even more so because this had so not been what he’d expected to hear from his unshakable brother.

It slowly made sense to him as he considered his brother’s behavior in those following months and even to this day there were certain things that he’d thought off since he knew was he was more cautious but every once in awhile he’d see Dean acting weird or the nightmares that still came on…the nightmares that Sam had thought were from Hell.

He’d tried to get Dean to talk about Hell but Ruby had been only too happy to share some of the more brutal experiences his brother had gone through down in the Pit and suddenly he understood that Hell wasn’t the first time his brother had been…

All the guilt and hate Sam had been feeling, that had been eating him up and keeping him from letting Dean close to him because he couldn’t stand knowing his brother, the man he’d idolized since he was four years old, knew how badly he’d screwed up.

Sam was the more emotional one out of the pair and if he thought this was bad then he could just imagine how his emotionally restrained big brother had thought his ordeal was.

Amelia and her party had hurt Sam for over fifty constant hours but that bastard had held his brother for close to a week and it also made sense when Dean told him to never touch him while he was asleep.

Moving before he was fully aware of it, Sam knew his brother didn’t know he’d moved or was anywhere close to him until he laid a shaking hand on an equally shaking shoulder and felt Dean’s muscles go tight then relax before turning just enough that their eyes met finally after what seemed like forever.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean hadn’t expected to feel Sam and nearly jumped out of his skin at the touch on his shoulder but the moment he turned to look and saw the wavering of emotions on that face something began to lift from his heart. “You get why I told you all that now, right?”

Sam did know because he knew he’d been shutting Dean out to the point where this would’ve ended only one way for them and while a piece of Sam still believed it might be better for his brother he couldn’t bring himself to hurt Dean like that.

Not that taking the next step was very easy because for Sam it was still too raw. His memories and the pain he could still feel. “How’d…you get…over it?” he asked softly, needing to swallow several times to wet his lips before any words would come out.

“I didn’t fully,” Dean admitted, turning slowly so he could face Sam and saw the way his body was shaking and knew it was just a matter of time now. “I was a mean, hateful, bitter bastard those first few months. You took the brunt of it since it was you I was trying to hide from but then it turned out that it was you who brought me back.”

This time the chuckle was partly amused because Dean watched the way his brother’s face scrunched up as if trying to figure out what he’d done. “You got shot when some spirit or something borrowed Caleb’s body and it was just that simple. Seeing you fall to the ground, clutching your side and shouting for me to watch out. I didn’t even see Dad exorcise the thing out of him. I just knew my little brother had been shot and needed me.

“It didn’t sink in until four hours later in the ER that I’d held you and let you hold onto me. From that night on, I still had the dreams and couldn’t go near a bar but it hit me that pushing you away wasn’t going to help me when watching after you was all that I had,” he didn’t see the sense to admit that he’d beat the hell out of Caleb that night as well even though it hadn’t been his friend’s fault.

“You won’t get over this right away either but if you let me in, let me help you I can promise you that I’ll always be with you and that that bitch will never hurt you again,” Dean moved slowly so that his hand was firmly on the side of Sam’s neck like he would always place it if his brother needed reassurance or just to know he wasn’t alone.

Sam hadn’t wanted to let his brother in, he hadn’t wanted to bother Dean with this again but it did ease some of his inner pain to think that Dean actually did understand some of what he felt and why he felt it.

It was the feel of strong fingers squeezing his neck in a familiar grip that caused the first fissure to form in the wall around his fears.

Not paying attention to the freely flowing tears now, Dean’s attention was solely on the way Sam was looking and the way his one hand, the one that wasn’t grasping the amulet, was clenching as if wanting to reach out so much but still afraid.

“Let it go, Sammy,” he murmured softly, never dropping Sam’s gaze and it was the first broken sob that warned Dean what was about to happen and he knew from years of experience to brace himself before his arms were full of his little brother.

So broken in body and spirit that all the buried fears and emotions just broke the walls finally and Sam’s body was wracked with violent sobs that had been wanting to break free for over a week and only his brother’s strong arms and deep voice whispering allowed him to finally feel safe enough to let himself feel and remember.

“God…De’n, I tried to fight so much but nothing worked. The drugs burned and I wanted free, I wanted you but I knew she’d made me write that damn letter and you probably hated me or thought I’d run away again and wouldn’t look but I still fought,” Sam’s voice was ragged, only blindly away when he was sat down on the bed but didn’t tense as Dean’s grip around him just tightened to hold him like he always had when trying to soothe Sam after a fight with their Dad or a nightmare after Jessica.

“I thought I’d…break the first time she let someone else…I’ve never…and they hurt so bad but she just laughed even when she let me beg them to stop Amelia just laughed and gagged me. I just wanted them to kill me but the first time she tied me on my stomach and I felt the guy…just rip me apart I screamed and prayed you’d find me but…”

As Sam continued to sob and try to talk between gasping breaths, Dean just sat still and held him. He knew this was what his brother needed now because Sam needed to get it out, to say it and he’d only feel safe enough to do this with Dean.

It took over an hour and a half of violent shaking, sobbing and a few dry heaves since Sam had wanted to throw up as he tried to explain the multiple assaults mixed in with the sick games and sex toys but since he had little on his stomach nothing came up and it ended up with them both on the floor.

Sam emotionally and physically exhausted as he tried to curl up like he used to as a kid and Dean silently wondering how much Bryan Markus would bitch if that so-called Jane Doe ended up dead in some psych ward one night.

Carding his fingers back through Sam’s hair, Dean let his breathing level off as he felt the tension ease away from Sam and listened to the sobs gradually become little sniffs. “It’s okay now, baby boy. I’ve got you and nothing is ever going to make me hate you or leave you or…” he reached down to carefully lift Sam’s face up so he could meet tired but more clear hazel eyes to add firmly. “…or ever be ashamed of you.”

Blinking a few times to allow his brother to come into focus, Sam held those firm green eyes and knew Dean was telling the truth. That no matter what had happened between them, before or now, that he could depend on his brother like he’d always depended on him.

That realization made the final vestige of fear and doubt slip away for the moment and Sam finally felt the exhaustion of not only his body but also his mind and wanted to sleep but still feared the dreams. He also feared this place. “De’n?”

The sleepy tone told Dean that his brother was close to drifting off but something still seemed to be bothering him. “Yeah, Sammy?” he gently slipped the bracelet back into Sam’s wrist and allowed himself the full smile when he saw the way his brother’s wide eyes locked onto it before relaxing again.

“I…I can’t do this again,” he whispered, shifting until he could get his head into the crook of his brother’s neck and not seeming to mind that he wasn’t thirteen anymore. All Sam knew was that he felt safe for the first time since Dean’s return from Purgatory and if being a little uncomfortable allowed him to sleep then he’d deal with it.

Dean had tensed at those words, feeling the amulet being pressed into his hand because since he’d given the bracelet back Sam had felt secure enough to give that over to who it belonged to. “Sam?” he wasn’t sure he understood until those same puppy dog eyes, huge with pain and sleep looked up in the same way he had after Sam had made the choice to confront Lucifer and he understood.

He understood even if it was breaking his heart at the thought. “This isn’t…” he bit his lower lip but stayed silent as Sam mumbled something even as he was burying his tear streaked face against his neck and falling to sleep for the first time since Dean had found him.

Looking around the bedroom, Dean thought of the living room. Of what being here must bring back to Sam since to this day Dean still had trouble even driving through Tallahassee and had never gone back to that bar.

“Shhh, just try to sleep, Sammy,” he soothed, keeping his touch light as he let his fingers card back through hair way too long but chose not to bug Sam about that yet while he began to trace gentle sigils on the closest shoulder he could reach and knew that familiar routine should keep the bad dreams away.

Or Dean hoped so as he let his own eyes close. Sam had worked through the worst of the trauma but still had miles to go before ever being healed.

Letting his head rest on the edge of the bed, Dean felt sleep come but was confident that if Sam needed him that he’d wake up. He wanted at least an hour’s sleep before facing the next day because if this had been hard then dealing with what came next would be brutal.

Saying goodbye had always been hard for Dean, especially where Sam was concerned and he knew this would be the worst.

Sam’s exhaustion bought Dean another week before he was faced with the next task, the one he’d been dreading every time Sam would break down in sobs and beg him to make it stop.

Dean had been giving Sam what he wanted for as long as he could remember but this time he wasn’t sure if he could. He wasn’t sure that he could do what needed to be done or allow Sam to do it if it came down to that.

He’d watched his brother get stronger because after an initial round of fighting, Sam had started to eat more. He still wasn’t as vocal as he had been but he had stopped whimpering in his sleep.

The nightmares still happened but then Sam had always been prone to those so that was nothing new for them. What was new was the first night Dean woke up to find his brother curled in the backseat of the Impala sobbing as hard as he had the night those walls had first shattered.

It was then that Dean finally knew he needed to make his brother’s pain stop…no matter how much it would hurt him.

Touching the .45 he carried on him at all times these days, he forced a smile while meeting his little brother’s tear stained eyes. “Let’s do this.”

** Forty-Eight Hours Later: **

Trying to ignore the burning tears and the weight on his heart, Dean slowly stepped away from Sheriff Jodi Mills to take a final look at the fire.

Always strong to the point of breaking there was a limit and Dean had known this would be his. The call to Sioux Falls had only seemed natural and the relief he’d felt at her simple reply of ‘ _I’ll be there’_ was huge.

Looking at the ripped and torn T-shirt that had been his the night he died, Dean gave it a toss so it landed in among the hotly burning fire that now consumed the old cabin.

The cabin had been the only stable thing left after the damn Leviathans had burned Bobby’s place and while it hurt to see it burn like this Dean accepted that his brother would never be able to stay here again.

Looking back to where Sam stood next to the Impala, his eyes partially hidden under his hair, Dean could tell by his brother’s body language that he was relaxing now that the last thing from his torment was slowly burning away.

“You know you’ll always have a home with me,” Jodi meant it because regardless of every ounce of trouble Bobby Singer or these two boys had given her or caused her she still thought of the Winchesters as her family now that Bobby was gone. “Just try not to come knocking with the FBI after you.”

“I think I have an edge there now,” Dean admitted, giving a final nod to the cabin before stepping back to his car and his brother. “You ready?”

Sam still looked tired and he hadn’t regained all of the weight he’d lost but as he met Dean’s eyes from across the Impala’s roof he offered one of his rare, truly happy smiles, and nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he replied, understanding the meaning behind the question. “I kinda might have found us something.”

“Still can’t hold his own in training with me yet and the kid thinks I’m letting him hunt ghosts,” Dean scoffed, giving a good natured smile that meant he’d consider it as he watched Sam slid into the car with only a slight wince.

He still watched Sam like a hawk and made certain to never leave him alone yet but Sam was starting to get bitchy about the hovering which told him that his baby brother was on the right road and Dean was determined to keep him there and gut the next bastard that even looked at Sam wrong.

The nightmares and occasional physical issues concerned him but Dean knew it would take a lot of healing before Sam was even close to being back to how he was and that was fine since Dean planned on then being around at least long enough to figure out what Kevin was doing with that half of tablet.

Jodi leaned into the driver’s window to lightly kiss Dean’s cheek before going around to give Sam one and Dean held his breath to see how his brother reacted but relaxed his grip on the wheel when Sam merely smiled shyly but didn’t seemed bothered by the simple gesture.

“No fighting, be good and stay out of trouble for a few weeks,” she ordered in what she liked to say was her best ‘Mom’ tone before driving away ahead of the Winchesters.

Dean waited until Sam turned a curious look before starting the car and driving away. He’d find a nice hotel for a change for them to just rest up and see what came next for them.

“Dean?” Sam was tired but not tired enough to stop asking questions and this was his annoying little brother that had to question everything tone. “What happened to her?”

Sam had been asking that same question since he woke up fully and Dean had put it off since he wanted no mention of the psycho bitch to ever hurt his brother again but he also knew Sam needed to know.

“She’s…not an issue for us, Sammy,” he meant it as far as he was concerned and waited to see if Sam would leave it be or press it.

Looking as if he might ask something else, Sam slowly nodded before letting his body curled against the door with his head cushioned on his arm much like he always did when sleeping in the front seat. “She’ll come back.”

The quiet statement caused Dean’s fingers to clench but he forced himself to relax while reaching over to lay a hand on Sam’s neck as he’d begun to do again until he was certain his brother was fully asleep.

“If she does then I make her dead, Sammy,” he whispered, flicking the radio on low while touching the amulet around his neck and made another mental note to ask Sam about it.

Kansas came on the radio and Dean smiled a little more. He felt confident that Sam would heal and he’d make certain to help the kid over the rough patches as they came while ignoring the little bit of curiosity about what Sam might’ve found since he was firm about not letting Sam hunt until he was fully healed or until Sam snarled at him in Latin.

Sammy swearing in Latin usually meant he was feeling better and that allowed Dean to put the darker thoughts about the bitch who’d traumatized his brother to one side because he knew the next time he had to deal with her that no one would stop him from killing her.

Because no one touched his little brother without expecting to have their lungs ripped out and that was how it would work until Dean knew he was dead for good.

Hearing Sam mutter something, he laughed and let his fingers squeeze just enough to remind Sam he wasn’t alone in the car and waited until the younger man had settled back again to allow himself to reply. “Yeah, I love you too…bitch.”

“…Jerk,” came the sleepy reply and all seemed right in his world…or at least for that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s over. I want to thank everyone who has waited so patiently for this final chapter. I also want to thank everyone who has read this story and for the wonderful reviews. This one was undoubtedly one of the hardest fics I’ve ever done and while I won’t say it’s the last dark piece I’ll do (okay I have something in mind to use the new dungeon) it’ll be good to good back to pure H/C or angst.
> 
> Look for new stuff soon and remember to check up with me on Facebook under morgana07

**Author's Note:**

> I know, this looks bad and it may be a chapter or so before we get back to this point…unless you don’t want to see how Dean ended up in Don’s face and such? Huh? I also want to thank readers for trusting me with this one.


End file.
